If I Fall Forward, You Fall Flat
by ryoku1
Summary: Winter is long, hard, and isolating for a creature out of it's element. But Elliot's winter of discontent might have a few upsides as well. Avian/Mer AU
1. Chapter 1

The ocean, in its enormity, was a terrifying place. Which was saying something, because he's Elliot, youngest of the famed Nightray brood, and he wasn't afraid of anything. He wasn't afraid of injury, or loss or disgrace. He'd dealt with all of it, and he'd always come out the stronger. He'd been forced to deal with his three older brothers being eaten, and watched his mother fall apart at the seams, before disappearing and never coming back. He'd dealt with the passing of his father from a prolonged illness that had worn on the whole family, and only worsened after the passing of his brothers and the disappearance of his mother. He'd flown out in a storm when he shouldn't have, out of anger and spite, and injured himself. He'd fallen to his assumed death, only to survive until his sister found him. And Elliot had lived with the pride that came with the Nightray name, and all of the advantages it offered him; the highest nest in the canopy, the abundance of food, and the clout they held in the hierarchy of the avian, and he'd survived past falling, losing the ability to fly, and disgracing all of it. He'd seen other avian broods try to take their highly coveted nest, attempting to insert themselves into the vacuum that their family's numerous losses seemed to make in the hierarchy, and he'd learned to fight them off bare fisted and flightless. All the things that should have taught him fear and pain, had only served to harden him, to make him more rigid and less likely to fall apart at the seams. Certainly, it had made him angrier, and more volatile, which arguably was a positive outcome. He was more prone to yell and punch than a normal avian. They weren't typically violent creatures, but in Elliot's 16 years, he had learned the merits of aggression, and that with wings like his, it was the only way anyone would take him seriously.

But despite the numerous setbacks, and hardships in Elliot's life, the ocean terrified him. More so than the other avian looking down on him as an invalid, more than the cold that would set in only a few months away, and more than the loneliness that would come with migration.

His wings were useless now, their black feathers with white splotches were still relatively well groomed and cared for, but they no longer worked in any real capacity. He could still flap them and gain some height, but he was in truth, a flightless bird; he had no strength for the trip across the great expanse of water that was the ocean, and winter was coming. It had been a long year, with the fall happening in early spring, and his father dying not long after. His health had deteriorated more rapidly after they all thought Elliot was going to die. Indeed all of them had had a troubling year, but now, it would be Elliot's first winter on his own. A flightless bird is a dead one, as the saying goes, but Elliot Nightray had never simply laid down and died before, and he wasn't going to now. He'd fought too hard to just give up.

Avian were not made for the cold, but Elliot was positive that he was going to make it work. There'd be no possible way he'd last the trip across the ocean, so really this was his only option, and Elliot accepted it with considerably less scorn than he had anticipated. He distinctively remembered the void of water from previous migrations. Even then it had been terrifying. His body had ached from traveling endlessly, and the ocean had remained steadfastly unrelenting. Even in peak conditions, the ocean sucked away all energy in its vast expanses. With his wings as they were, he had no chance. Elliot had to stay behind and test his luck with the cold instead.

It was certainly possible that he didn't fear the cold, because it was something he's never had to witness before. Their summer home was green and lush and beautiful, with great expanses of trees, bright skies from above the canopy, surrounded by mountains covered in lush trees to the wet, and the steady beat of the coast to the east. It was an ideal summer home for an avian; not to hot, and not to cold. Their winter home was in the tropics, and predominantly stayed the same moderate temperature all year, but it hardly produced enough to sustain a large avian population all year round. Indeed, they were only permitted to go there simply due to their status, it was where all higher avian families spent their winters. Other lower broods spent their summers elsewhere, but they still left. Avians were not made for the cold, so none stayed.

The white expanses of winter was something Elliot had only ever read about in books. It was a thing he couldn't possibly fathom. White snow drifts as far as the eye could see almost seemed impossible to the young avian, who for the whole of his life had either been nestled snugly in the embrace of a forest, or over top of a great ocean in transit. Back then the ocean had only seemed like an obstacle, something he simply had to get around in his overall goal. But as he was, all Elliot could see when he thought of the ocean, was death. He knew it would kill him given the chance. The cold in context of books and stories, seemed kinder; at least with winter, Elliot felt he had possibility. The ocean would swallow him whole, and wouldn't even leave bones to be mourned. Like his mother, he'd simply vanish, never to be seen again. His sister, Vanessa, would simply turn to look back, and he'd be gone.

Winter really was his only choice in the matter, though calling it a choice in his own head almost seemed humorous. He would have to be more careful than normal, his dark wings would make him an easy target for hungry wolves in the area. Avian had no predators within the canopy, but on the ground, they were certainly on a few menus. He'd have to be smart, clever, and cautious; all the things he'd been historically horrid at. Planning and caution had never been his strong suits in the past, so the whole venture was going to have to be a huge learning experience if Elliot was to survive. He was going to have to work hard to overcome his instincts if he was going to make it, but as with everything, Elliot was sure his chances were at least decent, if not outright good. It was worth the try. He'd even proved to himself that he could adapt by learning how to knit, and had made himself warmer clothes in preparation, and Vanessa had made him a lovely pair of boots. Avian didn't typically wear shoes, but they'd both realize that he would need them, and Vanessa had labored trying to figure out how to make a pair for him. In the end, they'd turned out to be nice boots, though in all honesty, neither of them really knew what a good set of boots really looked like, though Elliot did suspect that his were perhaps a little too large.

He and Vanessa had also worked hard to make any repairs that the nest needed for winter ahead of time. It was customary to leave their nest a dumb when they left for migration, and to work vigorously upon their return to get it back into a livable condition. Since he was staying the winter instead, he needed the nest in tip top shape, so he and his sister had worked to keep it that way.

Knowing that his decision to stay was likely inevitable, Vanessa had also prepared stores of food for him. Typically, an avian would provide for himself, gathering nuts, berries and fruit for his own consumption, but with Elliot flightless, that arrangement had gone by the wayside. To his amazement, Vanessa and his adopted brother, Gilbert, had taken up the cause, collecting food for Elliot, and themselves. And while they had needed to bulk up for migration, both of them had still been squirreling away food for him. It was enough to make him angry, if he really thought about it, but also undeniably ashamed of what he could, and could not do.

Winter won't be perfect. He was going to lose a lot of weight, even more than when he'd fallen and had to recover, but just as he had then, he'd regain the bulk and strength eventually. He was also going to have to make his food stores last as long as he possibly could, and once it was gone, he was going to have to go looking for food on his own, a very dangerous prospect considering the black, useless wings on his back. But Elliot thought, with confidence, that if anyone could do it, it would be him. Even if the berries and the plants were all dead, there would still be fish to eat, and when the nearby lake froze over -if it froze over- he'd instead travel to the ocean. The coast wasn't far by the wing; walking would take longer, but certainly it couldn't be that much of a chore. Walking was much slower than flying, but Elliot liked to think that despite that, he tended to make good time. With his wings wrecked as they were, he wouldn't be able to hunt for fish like he normally would, but he also had some idea on how humans used rods of some sort to fish, and if human's could manage it, certainly Elliot could.

The cold won't be easy, but it would be better than the ocean. And as the inevitable date approached, Elliot found that he wasn't actually very apprehensive about having to stay behind. In truth, it was simply another test he would have to pass, and if he lived past it, he'd have to do it again every year after. But Elliot Nightray no weakling, he could manage.

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I am biting the bullet, and posting this. I will attempt to update daily. Thank you to my lovely beta, PoisnousPixie, for putting up with my poor grammar, and worse moods.


	2. Chapter 2

His older sister Vanessa was fretting. That was, in and of itself, not such a strange occurrence, especially so within the past year. Vanessa had always tended to fret more openly than most of their siblings, though she was certainly better at hiding it than Gilbert, who was, undeniably, an open book. Elliot had never seen the sense in fretting, even after everything, he tended to drown out his worries with aggression, or hide behind the numerous tomes kept locked away in the trunk he kept nestled in his room. Elliot avoided fretting, even though he often felt the urge to do so. He was simply convinced it wasn't becoming of any hot blooded male, of which he certainly was.

Vanessa, in comparison, hid her worries in snide remarks, harsh words, and occasional ear pulling, but at its core was kindness and concern. In the rare moment that Elliot actually took the time to think about it, he supposed that in truth, he and his sister handled things somewhat similarly, though he didn't like to admit it.

But that day, Vanessa's fretting had been neither violent, or snide. Instead, it had been nurturing, something Elliot had not anticipated, and something that distinctly reminded him of his mother, a fact that made him feel stiff and unresponsive. He could feel Vanessa's hands working through his feathers, tirelessly straightening, and running her fingers delicately through them, trying to keep the useless things in optimal condition. The feel of someone else preening him was always a strange one for Elliot. His mother had done it often, but that had felt normal at the time. Now that he was almost grown, it made him uncomfortable and squeamish, like he wanted to blow up in embarrassment and scream at nothing. Even to an avian that could not use his wings, they were still very important, and preening was an essential part of his daily life. But having Vanessa baby him, like a child, or perhaps even a mate, made him want to rebuke her for it. Closer family units preened one another, but the Nightrays had never been much for physical contact, their father had never allowed it. Now that he was grown, being preened by someone else should have been enjoyable, a special treat, but all he could do was wait patiently, keep his temper in check, and hope it would end soon. He didn't want to fight with Vanessa, she didn't deserve it, even if her affection was awkward, and riddled with scolding's when she came across an ill-kempt spot.

More than anything, he wanted to apologize to her for being a useless brother, for being nothing but a burden, and mostly, for not even being comfortable letting her preen him. She deserved better, but it was something he was unable to give, and no matter how many times the words started hissing in his throat, he could not give them life.

"Your wings will never get any better if you don't preen!" Vanessa scolded, her fingers carefully feeling their way through the small feathers that jutted from his back where the bone of his shoulder blades connected with his wing bones, covering the tender flesh of his wings in soft down feathers. "You must preen at least three times a day when I'm gone! And at least once with water if you can." She didn't outright say it, but she was making mention to before the fall. Before, Elliot had cared for his wings almost meticulously, certainly more than most avian. He'd easily preened at least three times a day to stay in tip top shape. Back then, his wins had been important, and they still were, but not in any meaningful way; not in a useful way. As it stood, he'd lowered that standard to once a day. It hardly seemed worth all the trouble for wings that didn't work, and he did so enjoy his reading. It seemed like such a shame to preen so many times when there were good books waiting to be read, and nowhere to fly to.

Elliot nodded to placate her, but made no promises. Some morbid side of himself wondered if he should have just cut the things off, and pretended to be a human. Avian were smaller than humans, but Elliot thought that he could probably get away with it. Living in their little human towns, and playing at being a human could be entertaining for a while. He wouldn't even be valuable without his wings, so if he was found out, it wouldn't really matter. He might have been able to do it, though human food would likely kill him. Elliot scrunched up his nose at the thought of all the strange things humans ate, and discarded the idea in the 'for emergencies only' section of his brain. He kept staring off into nothing, trying to memorize the feeling of Vanessa's fingers carefully traveling up and down each of his wings, methodically realigning, and dusting them off. He hadn't realized that he'd missed preening till that very moment, when his sister's fingers fumbled through his ratty, disused wings, and he felt the distinctive void that preening should have felt like home, but it didn't. Even if it made him uncomfortable, he had the distinct feeling that his discomfort was entirely his own fault, and that made him angry and contemplative in the same stroke. He'd been more open to allowing others to preen him before the fall, even if it had made him uncomfortable. After, it hadn't seemed all that necessary, and had only served to make him more self conscious than he already was.

Even his father had preened his mother's delicate grey wings, back before their family had been so viciously devastated. Back when Elliot was sure they'd still loved one another. Or maybe it had always been his imagination that he'd had a happy home at one point. Now with its glaring absence, he found himself contemplating the dynamics of what had been, likely more than he should have. He'd been too young to really consider it before, and now all he could reference were skewed, childish memories. In reality, none of it really mattered. Thoughts like that were inherently useless in the grand scheme of things, even though he found his mind wandering there from time to time. He rationalized that it had to be some sort of coping mechanism, to make what he'd lost seem like less of a loss than it actually was. Just as he'd contemplated chopping his wings off entirely, rationalizing away the importance of his familial connections was likely just another way of dealing with his current situation. Though, admit-ably it did seem like an odd one.

What was really important at that very moment, was Vanessa, slaving over his unkempt wings, and scolding him for being childish and irresponsible. And in a way, the inability to accept affection without some sort of backlash or scathing remark, felt more like home than anything else. He was more happy than he'd ever admit that it was she who was still with him, and that he'd been able to argue her out of staying with him in perpetuity.

She'd wanted to stay. Had argued viciously to suffer through the cold winter with books and blankets, and the frightened, freezing trip down to the ocean for fish when the supplies of food were gone. In the end, his ability to be just as aggressive had not won out. Instead, he'd had to placate her, cause she could be just as mean and headstrong as he was, and it was good to remember that when he was dealing with her. In the end, some warm hearted reassurance that he would be here when she got back had convinced her to go, but only slightly. It was unnatural for any avian to stay through the winter, and even if she did, that only meant that the stores of food would deplete faster, and they'd have to wander out on their own even faster. And her wings were so much darker than his, jet black and beautiful, with no unsightly blemishes or white flecks to speak of. She would insist on going out, as she always did, and she would be an obvious target for wolves. Elliot couldn't bear the thought of that. Vanessa was smarter than he, and more cautious as well, but the thought of putting her in so much danger, just to keep him alive, was enough to give him serious concern.

Elliot was secure in his belief that Gilbert would do well to manage what little remained of the proud Nightray family, even if it was a burden he didn't want. And where Gilbert went, Vincent would follow. Between the two adopted Nightray sons, Elliot had no worries. His sister would be well taken care of. The three of them would enjoy their winter in the tropics, and come back to their summer home to find him still alive and well. Likely many pounds lighter, but fine, and stronger for the effort.

It would work out, Elliot was sure of it. Even if he had wanted to fret about it, it wouldn't matter. He would make it work.

"Your wings are still beautiful, you know. Even if you haven't been caring for them properly." The melancholy air to his sister's statement made Elliot strangely uneasy. Vanessa was not a sweet, kind girl, never had been, and he'd always had trouble picturing her as a mother for that reason. None of the Nightrays were kind or sweet. They'd all been raised to fight and claw and be aggressive, cause no one was going to give them a damn thing. They'd have to fight for everything, and that had been the cornerstone of their childhood. The softness of his sister's voice was, in and of itself, disarming and concerning.

"You worry far too much." Was the only response he could find to ease her obvious apprehension. He was no good at this sort of thing. "I have many blankets and sweaters, and enough books and supplies to last me all winter. I'll be fine on my own."

Vanessa's delicate fingers stopped for just a moment, before they continued to work mechanically through his wings. "We could take more stops, go at a slower pace." But they both knew that was impossible. Simply by saying it, Vanessa was confirming the inevitability of Elliot staying behind. The longer they dallied, the more unlikely they would be to get anywhere. And if the rest of the family did wait for him, they'd be endangering their own lives. The large beasts of the world counted on that migration, and the exhaustion that came with it. Many avian died every year. They simply could not afford to have an invalid like him accompanying them. Even if he could physically make the trip, he was dangerously out of shape at that point. Sure, he was still a force to be reckoned with when angry and on the offensive, but general inactivity and reading had been his only real pastimes for the past several months. The sudden spurts of action were largely adrenaline charged, and few and far between. He had plans of finishing every book in their library, all of them tucked away in trunks that had been hauled into his rooms. By the time winter was through, and he'd hoped to compose at least 10 different songs, though singing them would be generally unwise. He was relatively safe in his assumption that nothing was going to come up their tree and devour him, but neither did he want to attract anything that could camp out and wait for him to come down. He an easy target, without advertising the fact.

Even without his mobility, Elliot found that he still needed tasks, things to finish and do to feel even slightly decent about himself, so he set goals. Even if they were childish, stupid goals, they were at least something to occupy his time with. Maybe if he finished all the books, and composed all his songs, he'd set new goals.

"Vanessa." He tried to make his tone firm, and convincing, but this was something he knew she would never be comfortable with, no matter how he reassured her. "You worry too much. I'll only leave the nest when I have to. And I'll be cautious when I do. It's not like I'm going to go gallivanting around in the snow, looking for trouble."

His older sister scoffed at that, her strokes becoming more aggressive, but Elliot found, he didn't mind. In fact, her aggression was more familiar than her gentleness. "You say that now, but I know my little brother. If you stay in this nest to long, you'll go stir crazy. All that childish energy of yours will bubble over and you'll go wandering out on your own for no good reason. And what if the wolves find you? What then? With the state of your wings the way they are, you'll never escape them!" She was convincing herself to stay, he could hear it in the severity of her voice, more aimed at herself than at him.

He turned his head back to give her a soft smile, trying to make it reassuring. "Every trip will be straight down to the water to drink. And I will be careful, you've no need to worry so much." He could see the upturn of her lip, the concentration and anger in her eyes while she threaded her fingers through his large feathers.

"And what when the lake freezes over, what will you do then? And what will happen when the food is gone? All the plants will be dead, and you'll have nothing to eat." Again, he could see her anger was not at him, but at herself. It was hurting both of them that she desperately didn't want to leave him.

"If the lake freezes over, I'll melt snow for water. And if the food stocks run out, I'll go out to the ocean to catch fish. I'll put snow on my wings, so that the black won't be noticeable, and I'll stick to the forest, where I can get up into trees in case wolves come. Up in a tree, I can wait out a wolf pack for days if I have to." Elliot knew he wasn't going to convince her this was a good idea, likely because it wasn't, but he at least had to try. "You worry too much, I'll be fine." He gave her the brightest smile he could, hoping it would placate her. "And when you return in spring, I'll have new songs, just for you."

It didn't surprise Elliot that his older sister was so concerned. They only really had each other anymore. Vanessa had never accepted Gilbert or Vincent into their household, she dealt with them now, because she didn't have any other option. But in truth, she likely felt he was her only remaining family. With the rest of their household gone, she'd grown even more protective of him as the days had gone on, his fall had not helped in this regard either. And now she had to leave him, uncertain that he would be alive when she returned. He wished he'd been more careful the day he'd injured his wings so horribly, but that was over and done with now, and Elliot tried his best not to regret the past.

Without a word, she moved over to his last few feathers, the long ones on the bottom of his left wing. She didn't make any noise as she carefully threaded her fingers through the wings, jerking them back into proper alignment. She worked slowly, and methodically. Paying close attention to each individual feather, even though she'd already been at it for over an hour. It occurred to Elliot that once she was done, that would be it. They'd leave his section of the nest, walk through the vast expanse that was the Nightray summer home, now deserted and unnaturally quiet, and see her out. She'd give him a hug, to which Vanessa would hold him far too tightly to be comfortable, and he would do the same, then she'd turn around spread her beautiful black wings, and be gone. Off to meet Gilbert and Vincent at Gilbert's private home, the one he kept so that he wouldn't have to live with this dying family in this vast dead space.

Vanessa would likely say something snide, Vincent would tease her, in that unique Vincent way that felt like mites crawling up your spine, and the three of them would be off. On a trip that could easily take them a month or more. That would be the end of it. No singing together, no more listening to Vanessa talk about her day, he wouldn't catch Gilbert sneaking into the Nightray house to check on him, and the house would be devoid of the toys Vincent so loved to destroy.

In that instant, he didn't want Vanessa to finish. The childish part of him wanted her to stay, and preen his feathers again, for good measure. Maybe if he had her do it again, it wouldn't be so uncomfortable the second time. He wondered if her pace had slowed because she was thinking the same thing.

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I'm sorry, I won't have a stable time frame for updates. My schedule is not stable. But, as stated in the last chapter, I plan on updating daily.


	3. Chapter 3

It had been a week since Vanessa had left, and to both of their credit, neither of them had teared up at her leaving. Indeed, they'd hugged, and she'd scolded him affectionately, but she'd left with her cheeks dry, and he'd seen her off with a clear conscience. He found he missed her, but not unbearably so. In fact, there had been few problems so far. The first week was easy, the cool of autumn was kind to him, the changing of the leaves was beautiful, and he found himself occupied by keeping the falling leaves of red and yellow from the surrounding trees, and the browning pine needles from his own tree, carefully swept out of the nest. It took some doing, but he'd figured out a system of getting up each morning, stretching and clearing away the leaves from the night before. Then he'd go about preening, despite not promising his sister, before dressing in the warm knitted clothes he'd made for himself. He'd venture out around midday to the lake and fill up his water pail and scurry back to his nest as fast as he could.

The first time he'd done it, he'd spilt his water trying to climb back up the giant pine, and he'd been so cold that he'd just climbed up the tree, set out his wet clothes to dry, tried to towel of his wet skin, thankful that his wing at least were water proof, and then had huddled in his nest of blankets and pillows, trying to keep out the cold in his bones. He'd curling up with a book until the sun went down. Water for that day had been completely forgotten, but the next day he'd woken up with his throat dry and scratchy, and he'd gone through his morning routine, and then wandered down to try again. He'd had more success that day, only spilling a little of the water, to which he was very grateful. He had fresh water to drink that day, and berries and dried fruit to eat. He'd preened his wings again shortly after, and settled in with a good book until the sun set and then he drifted off to sleep in his mound of blankets, not nearly as cold as the day before.

The climbing down brought about its own share of problems. The Nightray nest was in one of the tallest of the forest, and his legs were poorly equip for the climb. After going up and down the first day, they'd ached like he'd never felt them ache before, and moving in general was a chore. He really had wanted to just stay in the nest, and not bother. But his dry throat had concerned him more than his legs, so he'd ventured down anyway, his legs shaky and spasming from time to time. It had made him more cautious, less likely to screw up, and that had been a blessing in disguise. His legs kept hurting, peaking about 6 days in, and continuing to hurt a little less each day after. Somehow, he felt they were getting stronger.

Every day, he seemed to get better at making the trip, and cleaning the nest seemed to take less time the longer he did it. His muscles ached the first two weeks, from having to climb up the pine using his legs and arms, but he adjusted to that as well, and it wasn't so bad. He rationalized that he was reforming muscles that he'd long lost, and that, in and of itself, was reassuring.

The troubles started around the 5th week, when he had his first snow. He woke up colder than he'd ever been before, only to raise his head and find that he was well covered in a light snow. It was in that moment that he wondered why they'd never thought to put a roof over the nest, but he dismissed the thought, it didn't do him any good at this point. Instead he went about collecting the snow into his water pail, and when that was full, he started sweeping it out onto the forest floor. Thankfully the tree had kept the largest clumps of snow out of the nest, but Elliot found that with the sun shining, the snow on top of the tree's canopy buckled, and dripped all over the place. He was far too afraid of getting his books wet to read, and instead placed them all inside the water proof chest where he normally kept his things safe from the elements. As the droplets became more sporadic, he even stowed away the blankets despite the cold. He was afraid they'd get wet and he'd never be able to dry them, and he needed those blankets.

As the nights got colder, the days tended to stay warmer, and Elliot found himself paying close attention to his tree's canopy, noticing which sections of the tree were better suited to holding off the snow. To his surprise, Vincent's living area seemed to stay the driest, and the least snowed on out of the whole house, so Elliot promptly uprooted his things and settled into his adopted brothers living space.

But just as he got used to the snowy nights, things changed again. The nights always stayed cold, but he'd been able to count on the daylight to warm things up for him. That changed dramatically around week 10, when it started snowing during the daylight hour as well, and when night set in the wet snow would turn to ice, and Elliot found that he could never get warm. The days got shorter, the nights longer, and the chill never seemed to leave his bones.

He found it increasingly difficult to want to get up in the mornings, even to read or despite being ravenously hungry. He also found that the pine needles that he had so casually swept out of the house made for an excellent first layer over his blankets, and that if piled on high enough, they would keep out a decent amount of the falling snow, so he did his best to collect as much as possible, burrowing himself down under them and the blankets every time he went to bed. Down there, it was at least several degrees warmer, to the point that if he carried down his water pale half full of snow, he'd have slushy, but drinkable water by morning, which was nice. His food stocks also froze, but he found that taking it down into his burrowed nest to thaw helped that as well.

The temperature continued to drop though, and as it did he found himself rummaging through the whole nest for any scrap of cloth that could help insulate him in any way. Thankfully, there was a great deal. He silently thanked his mother for never being able to dispose of his older brother's clothes, and to the rest of them for simply forgetting to go through any of it. He found himself dressing in more and more layers as time went on, not caring that they were to large, and squirreling away every scrap of fabric he could find into his little burrowed nest in Vincent's living area. It helped, but it wasn't ideal. He was still cold all the time, and it continued to be harder to want to go out at all.

The temperature continued to normalize, drop, normalize, and then drop again. And it was quickly becoming apparent that Elliot was a fool to think he could ever do this. The sun only came out from behind the clouds perhaps once a week, in which time he'd climb up higher in his tree, and bath in what sunlight he could, because he desperately needed the warmth. Most days, the sun was covered by dark, dreary clouds and even when it was out, the days were so short, that his time with the sun was never as long s he wanted. Elliot found he missed it dreadfully, among other things, of course.

Around the 15th week, the inevitable happened. He ran out of food. He'd been trying to ration it away, but the colder it got, the harder that was to do. If he had been more strict with himself, the food might have lasted longer, but eating kept him warm and there were many times that he felt like he would just fall asleep and not wake up if he didn't eat enough. But now, in the dead of winter, he was out of food.

He spent a whole day thinking about his options at that point. Ideally, he should have planned for this ahead of time, scavenging when it hadn't been that cold, instead of squirreling away in his nest with his books, but that was done and there was nothing for it. At this point, the lake was well frozen over, and useless to him. He'd made the trip down there around week 11, only to see that it was frozen and there was nothing to be done about it. That had encouraged him to just stay home more frequently, and he'd done so, to his detriment. With snow falling consistently, and never thawing, he had plenty of snow to provide water for him, so he hadn't felt the need to leave his nest.

The only option he could think of was the ocean, but that held its own troubles too. It was a trip he could make, but it was a long one. With his wings it wouldn't take any time at all to get there and back, but if his wings worked then he wouldn't be in this situation to begin with. A trek through the forest to get to the ocean and back, would probably take him the better part of a day, and that was only if he made a clean trip without any distractions. Once he got there he'd have a small window of opportunity to try and catch fish before he'd have to come back.

It would be cold too, and his black flecked wings would be a dead give away to any wolves in the area, and there were certainly wolves in the area. He heard them howling at night, nestled deep in his burrow of blankets and pine needles, and hoped that he'd never run into them. He'd had decent luck so far, but going to the ocean on foot was a much longer time for him to be out, much more dangerous than a quick scurry over to the lake for water.

No matter how his plans came together, they would have to be tomorrow. The day was already half over, and there was no way he'd make the trip to the ocean and back in that time, so he went hungry that day, and woke up early the next, ready to go.

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	4. Chapter 4

Right before the sun came up, Elliot wrapped up his large wings in white linen, so that the black of his wings wouldn't stand out in the white snow. He hoped that he wouldn't need to use his wings, but also rationalized that if he did, he was probably going to die anyway. Elliot could still use them in emergencies, but it exhausted him almost entirely. Flying wasn't an easy thing to do to begin with, and the muscles he needed for such an action were long atrophied. He figured that in panic, he could probably fly enough to get to a low branch, but not if his wings were wrapped up. He hoped that he wouldn't need to.

With the first ray of light, Elliot set off, well bundled in several layers of clothing, and hoping that they wouldn't be a detriment. He needed to stay warm, but not too warm either, so at the last minute, he left a few layers behind.

He hadn't climbed down his tree in several days, and he found it difficult to get down. Snow and ice made his grip less reliable, and he almost tumbled down a few times, the strength he'd developed in his arms the only things saving him from falling. He made it down in once piece, with only minor scrapes to show for it, and proceeded in the direction he knew the ocean to be.

But he found that traveling through the forest on foot was actually quite difficult. The snow reached up to his knees, and though his boots kept his feet from getting wet, his knees were not so lucky. Not to mention that he couldn't see what was on the forest floor either. He ran into bramble bushes, and fallen logs tripped him up often. It was frustrating, slow work, and he had to struggle not to curse loudly every time he stumbled. He already felt like he was making a racket, he didn't need to add cries and yells of indignation to that.

He was lucky not to run into too many other animals though. About half way there - or what he hoped was half way there, because in the snow it was hard to tell- he ran into some deer, nibbling on bark and twigs. Elliot wondered if he could do that, before dismissing the thought. He told himself he wasn't that desperate yet, but the emptiness of his stomach objected strongly to that line of thought. If he didn't catch any fish, he was going to have to seriously consider it.

He pressed on, because fish sounded delicious. The thought of sinking his teeth into actual meat was so mouthwatering that he couldn't even compare it to eating bark and twigs.

To his horror, the trip to the ocean took almost half a day, way too long. He only had an hour to catch any fish, before he'd have to start his trek back to the nest. It only occurred to him at that point, that he didn't really know how he was going to catch said fish. Normally, he'd fly up into the sky, and look for movement, then once he had something in his sights he'd soar down and catch it, but his wings were useless, and actually getting into the ocean water was likely suicide. He'd never make it back to the nest if he was wet. He'd just freeze to death instead. Even though it was warmer on the coast, it was still below freezing in the forest proper, and at the nest.

The human way of catching fish was what he'd planned on originally, and he'd scowered the nest the night before for some sort of string that would work. Tucked away in his older brother Ernest's trunk, he'd found a string that he thought would do, and didn't really contemplate why Ernest had ever kept string. It wasn't important. He had the string, so the next step was trying to find a stick of some sort that he could use. It was not an easy task with snow on the ground. Indeed there was less snow here, and the temperature was less brutal, but there was still a decent amount of snow on the ground, enough to make his task harder than it needed to be.

It could have simply been his own impatience, but it took far too long to find a suitable stick; one that bent like the human fishing lines did without breaking. In the end, he'd had to give up looking on the ground, and break one off of a tree. Once that was done, he tied his string to the end, and plucked one of his smallest feathers to tie on the end. He'd seen humans fishing with what looked like colorful feathers before, so he hoped that his black feathers would work.

Getting the string into the water proved much harder than he had anticipated. It was rather long, and it tended to get tangled in every slight breeze, and he'd get horribly frustrated with it. It took such a long time for him to get it into the water, that he was cursing this whole venture in his head. He really wanted to scream and get frustrated, but he couldn't afford the extra noise. He couldn't attract unwanted attention.

He did finally get that dumb string into the water though, and he sat on a low hanging rock, over the in and out of the tide as it crashed against the crags of the rock face. It was likely a deeper spot than by the shore, so there should have been more fish, but his dumb human fishing rod didn't warrant any attention from the undersea life. He was about ready to just give up and see if he could find a crab or something, when the rod lurched unexpectedly. Elliot was so surprised, that he lost complete hold over it. He scrambled to grab it again, losing his balance and almost tumbling into the water himself, watching crest fallen as the damned thing fell right into the crashing waves.

Elliot couldn't help it at that point; he cursed loudly, screaming at the top of his lungs in indignation. Damned human contraptions, damned cold, damned wings! He was so engrossed in kicking snow, and making a general fuss, that he almost didn't hear the voice.

"You're doing it wrong." But the noise did snap him out of his temper tantrum. He went rigid, and alert. That had sounded like a human, and where as humans were sometimes not dangerous, it was best to avoid them all together. Elliot looked around suspitiously, trying to see who exactly had spoken to him.

But when he couldn't find anyone, he decided to take his chances. "What am I doing wrong?" He couldn't help the indignant tilt to his voice. Elliot Nightray had never taken kindly to being told he was doing _anything_ wrong, even when he was.

"Fishing. You'll never catch any fish like that." The voice, Elliot decided, was not around him, but instead below him. He looked down quizzically, but found nothing there either, no little things in the snow to mock him. "Over here. You sure are a dumb human."

That time, the voice had been behind him. Elliot turned on his heels, and there, bobbing up and down in the water, was a head. A human head, with scraggly, matted black hair, that Elliot instantly wanted to fix. From what Elliot could see, the human was bare chested, his body still submerged under the water. The only other part of the human's body that Elliot could see clearly, were the little hills of his shoulders, popping out of the waves.

In that moment, Elliot thought it very, very ironic that the human had called HIM dumb. "What the hell are you doing in there! You'll catch a death of cold you moron!" Without really thinking on it, Elliot reached down his hand to help the human out of the water. He wasn't as strong as a human, and he was much smaller, but he was sure he could help, even slightly.

"Dumb, ignorant, human. I live here." The great globs of wet matted hair kept the human's eyes from view, but Elliot was positive he was being glared at. The frown on the human's face made that assumption seem even more legitimate.

Elliot couldn't help puffing in indignation, but he kept his hand extended, even reaching down farther. "Humans don't live in water! You'll die of hypothermia like that, you mental case! And without clothes too! You're lucky I came, I'll share clothes with you." It likely would have been smarter to just let the water human drown, cause helping him up would get Elliot wet in the process, and that was something he didn't need to deal with, but at the same time, Elliot couldn't just leave someone in need. Besides, the hero complex, that he didn't admit having, had been nearly abandoned in his isolation. It felt nice to find someone - other than himself - who needed help of some sort.

Despite his good intentions, the water human scowled harder, and slapped away his hand, making a wet splashing noise as he did. "Don't call me a moron, dumb human! You're the one fishing with feathers in winter! And don't call me a human either." The dark haired human ducked under water, before a large fish tail came up and replaced where he had been before. Then with a flap, the fishtail disappeared back into the water, and the black haired boy emerged again. "I'm a mer, not a human."

Elliot was so shocked, that he stumbled back instinctively. He'd never seen anything like it, a half human half fish thing. "So you really are a water human..." Now that Elliot was looking harder, the boy's skin was almost a bluish shade, certainly not as warm and pink as a normal human's, and on the side of his neck, were gaping slash marks, probably gills, and he wore no clothing, not even a scrap. "Aren't you cold? I'm freezing, and you're wearing nothing!" He found himself instantly jealous of how comfortable the water human looked. He was freezing in these low temperatures, with at least three layers of clothing on, and the mer was just lazing about in the water, without a scrap of clothing, looking wholly content. There was no justice in the world.

There was a slight scowl on the boy's face, but it seemed to melt away fast enough. "Don't call me a 'water human'. I'm not a human at all. I told you, I'm a mer." The mer paused for a few seconds, seeming to look away, before looking back at him, but with that dark curtain of hair covering his eyes, Elliot couldn't be sure. Did mer even have eyes? "It is colder out of the water, that is true, but my skin is much thicker than yours. I'm not really cold." The mer seemed to appraise him after that statement, and with the hair in the way Elliot couldn't tell what he was thinking. That hair was a nusceance, he definitely wanted to put it in proper order! "You are very small, for a human. Are you unhealthy?"

Elliot couldn't help but bristle at that comment, and he was sure the irritation was plain as day on his face. "I'm healthy! And I'm not small either! I'll have you know that I am _not_ a human. I'm an avian."

The mer seemed to expect some other form of explanation, and what Elliot could see of his face scrunched up when he didn't receive it. The mer looked skeptical. "So avians are just small humans? You look more human than I do. If you're trying to trick me, or something, it isn't working, small human." The mer said the statement nonchalantly, almost like he didn't believe it at all, and that pissed off Elliot more than he was willing to admit.

"I told you, I'm not a human! What do you think these are!?" Elliot motioned to the wings on his back, but then realized that they were still covered in white cloth, the mer likely couldn't see what they were, if he could see at all. Mer's having eyes or not was still in debate.

"What is that indeed. A bag, perhaps? But it's almost as big as you are. You seem very foolish-"

The mer's statement stopped as Elliot struggled to get the bound cloth off of his wings, any worry of danger long gone at this point. He had something to prove, and he'd be damned if he stood there and listened to some overgrown fish call him a liar. As he got the white cloth off, he instinctually move his black speckled wings back and forward, they'd been tied up for most of the day, and it felt very good to let them out to move a bit, even though the coldness of the air made him shudder.

He noticed the silence from the mer, and looked over, flapping his massive wings, more to show off than anything else. Elliot was pleased to see that the mer's mouth was slack jawed, in what Elliot could only assume was wonder, and he couldn't help smirking at the reaction. "See? I'm _not_ a human!" He couldn't help making his statement obnoxiously. Elliot liked to be right, and hated when people doubted him, or were generally skeptical in his direction.

The obvious lull in their conversation, and the slack jawed look of the mer, led Elliot to the conclusion that the other boy was obviously impressed. The reaction made Elliot's smirk widen, but the silence didn't last for too long. "They actually look really ratty and unkempt. Don't most birds take better care of their wings?"

The indignation on Elliot's face was instantaneous. "They are not ratty, you slimy fish! And I'm not a bird, I'm an avian!" Elliot found his hands balling into fists, and his temperature rising, which oddly, was nice in the cold. He also hadn't had the opportunity to blow his top in quite a while, so this was probably a good thing, in the long run, even if he was frustrated right at that moment.

"Don't go calling me a fish if I can't call you a bird." The mer's head cocked in irritation, and Elliot saw a long finger come out of the water to lazily twirl around some long strands of black hair.

"Don't call me a bird and I won't call you a fish!" Elliot retorted at rapid speed, not giving the mer time to really say anything else.

The black haired boy hummed, seemingly in irritation. The mer upturning his nose a bit, but seemed to relent. "Deal." He stated nonchalantly, as if the matter really didn't concern him much.

The two of them awkwardly fell into silence. It was only as he was standing there, waiting for the mer to say something, that Elliot realized he'd missed normal interactions. Or, normal interactions for him. He'd taken to mumbling to himself at home, just to use his voice so that it wouldn't get grainy in misuse, and he'd been to focused on staying warm and eating well to even really consider that he was lonely. It hit him at that moment, that he really was, and that this mer, even though it wasn't nice, was the closest thing he'd had to a real conversation with another living thing -chasing off squirrels didn't count- in almost four months.

He hadn't realized he'd missed it. In that context, maybe the silence wasn't as stifling as it had seemed before, but Elliot found he still wanted to talk. He wasn't good at being social, but he did crave the interaction.

"Did you pull down my fishing rod?" He'd tried to make the statement less accusatory than it actually was, and failed miserably. It still sounded like an obnoxious allegation, even if it was likely true. He made a point of trying not to regret things, so Elliot let it go, even if he did secretly hope that he could someday get better at not seeming mean spirited.

If Elliot had to guess, he'd figure that the mer was rolling his eyes at him. "You can't really call that a fishing rod. You were just wasting your time. And looking incredibly foolish, I might add. "

Elliot narrowed his eyes, and couldn't help scowling for all he was worth. "That's a yes, isn't it."

In response the mer looked away and shrugged. "I was doing you a favor. You looked very, _very_ foolish. I'm sure every fish that wandered by that pathetic excuse of a fishing rod thought it was hilarious too. I'm sure they're going to tell all their friends about it, and you'll be the laughing stock of the ocean by morning."

Elliot couldn't help but puff out in indignation. His first response was to be very, very offended, and defend himself as best he could, but the emptiness in his stomach took the fight right out of him, and his second huff was more so in exasperation. He hadn't eaten yesterday, and had spent most of today trekking down to the ocean, only to have his fishing rod yanked rudely away from him. He was going to go hungry again tonight at the rate he was going. The thought drained all the energy out of him. He hadn't really been optimistic about being able to catch something, but he had hoped. "I needed that. How else am I suppose to catch anything?" What might have sounded despondent on someone else, only made him sound sullen, and irritated, which was nice. He never wanted to sound despondent, even though it was certainly how he was feeling.

The mer looked both unsympathetic, and confused at the same time. "Using fishing rods is something humans do. Don't you hunt fish like birds?"

At the statement, Elliot wanted to be angry, he wanted to yell and scream in indignation at the injustice of some dumb fish telling him how he should be do things. Cause it wasn't fair he had to stay behind and it wasn't fair that he was useless. And now he was getting it slammed in his face by something that didn't know, or care, that he was trying his best to make this work. He wanted to be angry, but he just couldn't muster the energy for it. Instead of making him angry, the question only made him upset. He looked away before stating, as strongly as he could, "I can't hunt like other birds." It sounded less aggressive, but just as angry as everything else he ever said, but the fight felt out of it.

And just as Elliot looked away, he realized just how late it was; long past when he should have been getting home. As it was, he wasn't going to make it home before dark, and in the dark he would be easier pickings for anything that might want an easy meal. The fact that he was going to have to go another day without food made him ache. He really wanted to eat, but he was already in danger staying as he was. He'd have to just deal with the hunger, and make his way home, regardless. He busied himself collecting the white cloth, and wrapping it around his wings one more. The moon would be out that night, and with the snow, his dark wings would still attract attention. "I have to go." He stated bluntly, wrapping the cloth around his wings as tightly as he could.

"Are you going home?" The mer seemed inquisitive, his head turned sideways as he seemed to watch Elliot prepare to leave. "You can't fly with your wings wrapped up like that, can you?"

Elliot took a long deep breath at the question, not because he needed to keep his anger in check, but because he wanted to seem like it. Anger was a much safer reaction than depression, which was certainly more prominent in his mind. "No, I can't." He answer was rough, abrasive, and defensive. He didn't want to answer any more questions.

The mer seemed to realize the subtle shift in his tone, and stayed silent for a while, the sound of the water the only noise between them. Elliot continued to fumble with the cloth. It kept slipping off, and Elliot settled into the comfortable feeling of irritation, cursing to himself in the process. When the mer finally did speak again, it was a much softer statement than before. "You can't fly, can you?"

Even though it was true, Elliot couldn't bear the thought of admitting it. He made a point of keeping his back turned, and his face angled away from the mer. He was positive the shame was etched all over his face, and he couldn't stand to be looked down on. It just wasn't fair. "I have to go." He finally said, his wings bound up in the white cloth, and the sun lower in the sky than he'd like it to be.

Elliot had no intention of turning back around to address the mer again. He was cold, tired, hungry, cranky, and depressed, all wrapped into one useless, irritated package, that was probably going to be eaten on the way home. But as he started to leave, it seemed like the mer had other ideas. "Wait, give me just a minute." He didn't have a minute to waste, he couldn't just sit around and wait, and Elliot had every intention of turning around and blowing up at the dumb mer, it would have likely made him feel at least a little better, but by the time he turned around, the mer had disappeared beneath the waves.

He should have just left. It would have been safer to just leave, but Elliot found himself plopped down on a rock, waiting impatiently for the damn thing to come back, the sun seeming to get lower every minute he waited. After what seemed like a very, very long time, which in actuality it was not, the splash of water alerted him that the mer had surfaced again. He whirled around, angry and frustrated, only to have a wriggling fish flung at him. He almost didn't catch it, and when he did, the fish wriggled out of his hands, before he struggled to catch it once more. But once he did have a hold on it he held tightly, so that it wouldn't escape back into the water's depths.

He looked at the fish in amazement, before looking back down at the mer. A clever smirk was on the mer's face, but to Elliot's eye, it seemed warm and inviting. "You're going to die anyway, so I'll be nice to you." Surprisingly, the morbid statement didn't bother Elliot one bit. It might have been the food in front of his face, but Elliot couldn't bring himself to care. Ravenously he sunk his teeth into the still living fish, devouring every inch of it, crunching the bones and organs and flesh indiscriminately. He hadn't had a meal like that in months, and now that it was in his grasp, he wasn't going to waste a morsel.

The mer seemed to wait patiently, though honestly, it didn't take long. Once Elliot had finished the fish and was licking the blood off of his fingers, the mer took the opportunity to speak again. "If you don't die, come back. I'll feed you again." The smile on the mer's face was warm and mischievous, and in retrospect Elliot probably should have known then that he was getting himself knee deep in something. "I always thought a bird would make a nice pet."

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	5. Chapter 5

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Elliot had indignantly trudged back to his nest, the anger coursing through his veins had actually seemed to make the trip go faster, and it was only after he'd gotten home safe and sound, that he realized the sun was just going down.

How dare that slimy fish call him a pet! Elliot Nightray, was no one's pet! Never would be, not in a million years would he except such a disgrace. And to a slimy, sardonic fish! Elliot had sworn to himself that he'd never accept such an agreement, no matter how hungry he got.

That resolve lasted all of three days. The temperature had evened out, and it hadn't snowed in those three days, but even with the weather normalizing, Elliot was still starving to death. On the second day, he'd started to rationalize ways to get around the whole pet thing, and still get food from the mer. Maybe he could sell things for fish, like humans did, or maybe he could figure out what he'd done wrong with the fishing rod, and try again. Both options were better than holing up in his nest, mad and getting desperately hungry.

One way or another, he had to figure something out. He really was going to starve to death if he didn't.

So early on the third day, he'd picked out a book -one he'd already read several times, and knew by heart- wrapped his dark wings in white cloth, and carefully ambled down his pine tree. He found the climb down harder than usual, despite a lack of more ice. He stumbled a few times, and had more than one close call on the way down. He chocked it up to hunger, shook out his sores on the bottom, and started his trek down to the ocean. This trip took less time than the first one had, which seemed to brighten his poor mood, at least a little. It certainly had to be that he had a better idea of the path he was treading, because he tripped and stumbled much less than the first time, but his legs ached more than he remembered.

He promised himself that he wouldn't settle for just being given food again. He was better than that; but deep down, Elliot knew he hadn't eaten in three days now, and that he was literally going to die if he didn't eat. He had a pretty good idea, that if something edible just appeared in front of him, he'd eat it, damn any consequences that came his way.

When he finally did reach the coast, he took in the deep ocean scent, but all he could smell was fish, and god did it smell delicious. If only he could get his hands on some. As always, the coast was warmer than the forest proper, and that was nice. It set his mind at ease a little, and allowed him to relax just a bit. Even the snow wasn't nearly as deep as it was around the nest, only a few inches thick.

Pleased with himself for making such good time, Elliot traced the rocky cost, trying to find the low overhanging spot that he'd seen the mer at last, and keeping his eyes peeled for anything that looked remotely edible to be stuck in the tide pools. But alas, nothing surfaced, and Elliot had to curse his luck. Finding the same spot where he had met the mer previously, proved more challenging than he had anticipated. The snow had been thicker the last time, and with it melting, the landscape looked quite different. It was nice to be around an area that was above freezing again, but the ground below him was slippery, and his pant legs were getting wet sloshing through the snow. His boots kept his feet dry, but there were other parts of him that were starting to get a little damp, and thus colder.

He was still looking for the overhang, and hoping something would just plop into his lap, when the mer found him. The spot the mer seemed to chose, was at an even lower overhang of rocks than before. At that exact spot, Elliot could have easily reach down and put his hand in the water, something he wouldn't have been able to do at the other overhang. It had been a bit higher than that. The sound of the water parting alerted him to the mer's presence, even though he'd hoped it was some sort of food instead. But when Elliot looked, there was the same mer, with an irritated frown plastered on his face. "You should have just died if you weren't going to show up sooner." The tone was light, but obviously displeased. It didn't hold the weight of a threat, but instead, simple irritation.

Elliot matched the mer's scowl with one of his own, though in truth, his mouth was already watering. "I'm not going to come back every day like some pet, expecting you to feed me!" Even if that had been what he was hoping for, there was no way Elliot would ever admit to such a thing. It wasn't becoming.

The mer didn't take the statement well, and his scowl only deepened. "You obviously haven't eaten. Your cheeks are hollow, and you're twitching. You'd eat me right now if you could." The mer appraised Elliot, obviously displeased with what he saw. When he spoke again, his tone was harsher than Elliot had heard it before. "You'd rather starve than be my pet?" It wasn't really a question, but by the indignant tone of the mer's voice, Elliot could tell he was very displeased. Of course the firm frown was another good indication.

Elliot bristled, and it took an amazing amount of control not to yell back at the mer. Instead, he firmed his lips into a line, scowled back, and extended out the book in his hand. "Of course I don't want to be your damn pet!" That hadn't been what he meant to say, and it took him a second to realize that he'd even said it. He shook his head, trying to settle the raging conflicts in his mind. One side screamed for food of any kind, where as the other admonished him for being weak, needy, and unreliable. The second voice sounded like his father, telling him that Nightrays didn't take food from strange creatures, and that Nightrays didn't starve to death. Certainly, his father could be wrong about that. It took a moment to come back to himself but when he did, Elliot blurted out as fast as he could; "I came to trade!" He had to get it out there, before he lost his nerve, and ate anything the mer brought to him.

The mer remained quiet, his face unreadable, and even more mysterious with the hair obscuring where his eyes should have been. Elliot had expected some reaction out of the mer, but when he didn't get it, he struggled with what to say himself. "I- Ah- Well- It's a book-"

"I know what a book is." Was the irritated response Elliot got, and he matched the mer's scowl in ferocity.

"Well good. Then you know they're valuable, and useful!" He wanted for some sort of response, some indication that he was making a favorable offer, but the mer wasn't even looking at him, instead he was fiddling with his webbed fingers, and extra long claws. Being ignored made Elliot bristle all the more. "Would you pay attention when I'm talking to you! This is a highly prized book I'm offering you! It's hand written, and very valuable!"

At the prompting, the mer turned back at him, but his frown was stronger than ever. "You're such a dumb bird. Books don't belong in water. I can't even use that." It was only then, that Elliot realized the mer almost looked sullen. He'd mistaken it before for disinterest, but now that he actually looked at the mer, he looked like he was brooding. It struck Elliot as a good sign.

"I am not dumb! And I'm not a bird!" Elliot squawked indignantly, stomping his food in emphasis, before righting himself, and starting again. "The book will belong to you, but since you can't take it with you, I'll keep it for you. If you ever want to read it, you can tell me, and I'll bring it for you."

The mer huffed at that, his displeasure not waning at the proposal. "That's the dumbest thing I've ever heard. You aren't losing anything. You get to keep the book, AND I feed you for nothing. What kind of a trade is that, moron?"

Elliot definitely caught the downward tilt of the mer's mouth, and noticed how his head turned slightly, and his shoulders went up. He was closing in on himself for some reason, and Elliot was going to take a gamble on what it was. "But, you do want the book, don't you?" Elliot had said the statement confidently, not sure if he had been right or not, but once it was out, he instinctively knew that it was true. Just by the way the frown deepened, and the mer turned away. Elliot was positive that he had the right of it.

"Just listen to me. You can't keep it with you, because the water will ruin it, but I can. If you agree, I'll come back here every day, so that you can read it. It'll have to go with me when I leave, that is true, but it'll be yours. I promise." Elliot tried to make the statement even and honest. He needed to eat, and the mer wanted the damn book, so all he really had to do was not be to obnoxious about the whole thing. Though, for him that was a difficult order to fill. The proposal probably wasn't much, but it was an opportunity that the mer would likely never have anywhere else.

But the mer wasn't facing him, instead he was angling his head down towards the water. Without prompting, he sunk his dark head of hair into the water completely, blowing bubbles up as he did, before laying down in the water. He kept his head upright, floating along with the rolling waves, that mane of black hair splaying out around him, and irritating Elliot to no end. It was the first time Elliot had gotten a good look at the mer's purple tail, and he found himself mesmerized by how it glistened in the water. Elliot couldn't help but wonder if it was even more magnificent in sunlight, and cursing the clouds that covered the sky. He was so enchanted by it, that he almost missed the mer's next words.

"You're a nice bird, but a dumb one." The mer extended his arms out, as if stretching, swinging them out of the water, then slowly back down into the water, then side to side. "I can't read."

And in just that moment, it made perfect sense. Of course a mer couldn't read. He'd never been able to even look at books without damaging them. How idiotic could Elliot have been to think that the mer could? He'd just assumed that the mer was capable of it, because he could speak, and simply because books were such a large part of Elliot's life. Trying to shake off his previous misconceptions, Elliot reached up and ran his fingers through his hair, yanking on it only slightly; irritated at his own folly, but sure that he could still make the deal work. "I can read to you! You obviously know what books are, and I know you want this, so I can read it to you. Everything else still applies."

The mer seemed to think about it some more, puffing out air as he did. Elliot couldn't help watching his shimmering tail, or the black mane of hair that spread out around him, shifting with the water's whims.

"I don't know, your voice is really irritating. I can't imagine listening to it for too long." Indignation filtered through Elliot's system, and he really had to fight the urge to just hurl the book right at the damned fish. His anger must have been apparent, because the mer's face broke out into a wide, teasing smile. "But I guess it'll have to do."

The pleasure at the proposal outweighed the irritation at the mer's snide remarks, and Elliot couldn't help but beam down at the boy. "Then it's settled!" Elliot shifted the book into one arm, and extended his right hand. "We'll shake on it!"

But the mer just looked at him with that same mischievous look on his face. "I'm not shaking your hand, I don't know where you've been. You might have bugs or something."

Elliot withdrew his hand in irritation, instead running it through his hair in an attempt to calm himself down. This damn fish really knew how to get under his skin. At the motion, the mer actually laughed at him literally pulling out his hair. Elliot found it was the most irritating sound in the world. "Don't worry, I'll keep my end of the deal. Wait right there, and I'll get you some fish for being such a good little birdie. Don't die on me while I'm gone, and sit down for goodness sakes, you look like you're going to pass out, and hurtle my book into the water with you."

Elliot had just enough time to scream indignantly, "My name's Elliot!" before the mer disappeared into the ocean, his laughter ringing in Elliot's head.

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	6. Chapter 6

Elliot had taken the mer's advice, and took a seat on a nearby crag, his feet dangling over the edge of the water, just high enough that he wouldn't risk getting them wet. It hadn't been a long time since the mer had left, but Elliot felt it was like an eternity. Waiting for food, even though he knew it was coming, was exhausting in and of itself. Though Elliot had never been a horribly patient person, so it was simply a part of his condition to be rather impatient.

He hadn't been waiting long, when he heard the unmistakable sound of something moving behind him. His ears were very keen, but despite that, it often took him a lot longer to notice out of place sounds. But once he had heard it, Elliot was on his feet. He discarded the book he'd been cradling on a nearby rock, and kept his eye alert for any signs of movement coming from the forest. The mer was suppose to be back soon, but there was no way Elliot could sit around waiting any more, the instinct that there was some sort of predator in the area was far too strong to be ignored. Even with the promise of food, he couldn't stay, it was just too risky. He might last another day without food if he was lucky, but if he ran into something nasty, he'd have a slim chance of escape.

The sound could have easily been his overly active imagination, and as he scanned the forest for a hint at what he'd heard, he rationalized this line of thought. The forest was far from quiet, and predators were notoriously silent when stalking prey, but Elliot remained positive that he'd heard something. Thinking back on his earlier interactions with the mer, Elliot realized that he had been louder today than he'd been in several months, far too loud. He paled, realize that his indignant ruckus had a high chance of attracting the wrong kind of attention. He couldn't help being angry at himself. He'd worked so hard all this time to be quiet, and cautious, and blew it all in one angry, fell swoop.

His mind was swimming with possibilities, when he saw it. His eyes had been furiously searching the forest, but they focused in on one specific spot, several lengths in front of him. Hidden against the white of the snow, was the long white snout of a wolf, and from what he could see, it was a big one. Elliot found himself scowling at the predator, thinking that if he could just stand his ground and look bigger, the wolf would leave him alone. When the wolf only took a few paces closer, he abandoned that tactic all together. Instead, he scanned his surroundings, looking around for some form of escape, his bound wings twitching behind him instinctivly. There were a few trees to his left, not too far away. With any luck, he'd be able to reach them without much of a problem, and climb up the tree as fast as he could.

But it was as he was formulating that plan, that he noticed another wolf in that exact direction. He thanked his lucky stars that he hadn't just gone with his first instinct to run, because the other wolf was laying in wait for him to take the easiest way out. Wolves were fast, and wolves worked in packs. He struggled to keep himself from panicking, instead focusing on anger, as he often did. Elliot had found that for most people, anger was a detriment, something they couldn't control or deal with, and something they often apologized for, but Elliot's anger seemed to focus him. He worked well with anger coursing through his veins, and Elliot surmised that right at that moment, he'd need that anger.

Wolves were smart, and he'd have to be smarter. If he just carelessly gave into panic, he was sure they'd have him. Without second guessing himself, Elliot opted to go to his right. There was a clearing that way, but once he got through that, there were trees that would be large enough to allow him a safe distance from the wolves. No matter how Elliot looked at it, the whole venture was a gamble, but if he could reach the trees at the end of the clearing, he would come out alright.

The wolves started off after him only seconds after Elliot had started running, but all Elliot concentrated on was moving as fast as he possibly could. He gave into the adrenaline coursing through his veins, using it to push himself as hard as he could. He had to get to those trees, or he was dead. His heart felt like it was going to beat straight out of his chest, and he regretted wearing so many layers that day. It was obvious now, but he should have left more behind. By the sound of it, the wolves were gaining on him rapidly, and as he neared the edge of the clearing, they were close enough to nip at his wings, the fabric covering them ripping in his haste and the wolves fervor. He had to fight every instinct he had not to swerve away from them, and to just keep rushing forward as fast as he could. He was so close, he just needed to get to the tree in front of him. Elliot was positive he could get up that tree faster than the wolves could get him, if only he could reach it.

With the wolves hot on his tail, Elliot rushed to the tree as fast as his legs would take him. Finally he extended his hand, and reached for the low laying branch of the tree, and hoisted himself up in one solid motion. His arms had always been strong, and the fluid lift of his body as his arm's strained to pull him up were an obvious indicator of that. But still, he was too slow. One of the wolves sunk it's teeth into his left foot, teeth easily tearing through the boot Vanessa had made him. Elliot yelled, more in surprise and anger than in pain or desperation. The wolf yanked on his leg viciously, intent on dragging him back down to the snow, but Elliot's grip stayed strong, and he held onto the branch above him without wavering. Instinctively, his loose right foot flailed to try and kick the wolf off. A mantra of 'no, no, no, no, no' rang in his head, as the wolf sank his teeth farther into the flesh of his foot.

He was going to die. Despite the screeching denials in his head and coming from his mouth, Elliot was sure that he was done. He'd been so careful, and the moment he let his guard down, that's all it had taken. He'd been so confident, and so careful, and it hadn't mattered at all. All it took was one slip up.

By some miracle, he felt his right foot collide with the wolf. A momentary opening of the wolf's mouth -likely to clamp down harder- was all it took for Elliot to rip his left food out of the wolf's mouth, leaving the boot behind. Once free it only took him seconds to pull himself up farther into the tree, the boot falling into the snow as the wolf released it and snarled up at him, a chorus of other snarls accompanying it.

He wasn't dead. He wasn't going to die that day, even though there were four snarling wolves below him, jumping and barking up at him. It was all too much for him to handle, and Elliot flopped down on the branch, suddenly exhausted. The adrenaline leaked out of him in droves, leaving him boneless and gasping for breath. This was the second time he'd thought he was going to die, only to have narrowly escaped, and he felt just as dead this time as he had the last time. He wasn't dead, and he wasn't going to die, but that simple fact didn't stop him from feeling like he was. Elliot was having a hard time breathing, and struggled to stay awake and alert. His heart was still beating out of his chest uncontrollably. There didn't even seem to be any relief to accompany the narrow escape, just exhaustion, and, perhaps, disbelief that he was really out of danger.

Shakily, he reached behind to his wings, fumbling to get off white sheets, and he noticed tears and bright stains of blood as the cloth came off. Obviously, the fabric had not been the only thing to take some abuse. Once they were off, Elliot surveyed the damage. The cloth had gotten shredded in parts, and his wings had been clipped a few times, but they looked generally fine. A few bite marks wouldn't hurt him in the long run, and the blood would easily clean. Meticulously, he went about carefully trying to clean off his wings, running his fingers softly through his feathers and straightening them as he went, and when he'd come across a patch of blood, he'd reach down for the white cloth, and gently wipe the fluid away as best he could. The action itself, almost seemed trance-like to him. He still didn't quite believe he was alive, and he was tired enough to pass out if he didn't do something to keep his hands busy. So he preened, convinced that it would keep him somewhat alert and awake.

The wolves continued to bark below him, snarling and pawing at the tree, but the tree stood its ground against their claws, and it didn't budge. He was safe, but that fact was taking a very long time to sink in.

Elliot couldn't say exactly when the wolves gave up and moved on to find easier prey. It didn't really matter to him. In truth, he was oblivious to most of the world. He busied himself with preening, straightening his feathers and running his fingers through them again and again, getting out flecks of blood as he went. His foot hurt, and he could hear the occasional plop of blood dripping down onto the snow, but he ignored it. A bird was only as good as his wings, and even if they didn't work, he rationalized that they should at least look nice. Vanessa's chiding voice came back to him, telling him that his wings would never work again if he didn't take care of them. In the haze of his mind, his wings seemed far more important than his legs. That was just common sense. He had to take care of his wings, they were delicate, and so very breakable.

Someone calling his name took his attention away from this wings momentarily, and he looked over to see the black haired mer, calling his name. Elliot could see the mer struggling to climb up the rock face, where the water met the ocean, with only his hands. It looked hard, not having wings, or even legs. He looked at his own legs in contemplation, before looking back at the mer when his name was called again. There was what Elliot would call a concerned grimace to the mer's face, and for the life of him Elliot couldn't understand why. He blinked at the mer in a daze, for what seemed like a long time, before he extended his feathers, and jumped from the tree. The mer was suppose to have food, and he was desperately hungry. It wasn't far, the mer had already hoisted himself up onto solid ground, with a great deal of effort, his large purple tail and dark hair a stark contrast to the white snow. Elliot should have been able to make it to the mer with a few simple strokes of his wings, but all they did was flap helplessly as he tumbled down and hit the ground. But this fall wasn't too bad. He'd fallen before, from farther lengths, and that had hurt; this time, it simply didn't. Besides, the snow was soft, cold, but soft, it made crash landings easier.

It seemed harder than usual to get himself back up once he'd fallen, though. His wings continued to flap frantically, trying to help right himself, but it was useless, and exhausting. They didn't work, and they would probably never work again. He had to amble up with his arms and then his legs, without the help of his wings. But once he stood, he stumbled down again. Putting weight on his left food hurt, he ended up having to drag it which was a weird experience, in and of itself, but he managed to move in something between a hop and a hobble. He really didn't think much about it, just moved his body in whatever way to make him move forward. All of this to a mantra of his name being called, followed by what sounded like encouragement, or maybe reprimands, he couldn't really tell. Everything was getting blurrier, and difficult to process. He reached the mer, allowing himself to simply fall to his knees in front of him. Then there were hurried noises that sounded vaguely like questions, and large, cold fingers all up and down his arms and face, but Elliot couldn't concentrate on any of it, the world was spinning around him, and he found himself swaying, trying to make it steady again, but it didn't work. After a few minutes of that, he couldn't stop his eyes from sliding shut, and he remembered nothing more.

-\|/-


	7. Chapter 7

When Elliot became aware again, he had no idea where he was, and that was inherently concerning. There was a symphony of strange sounds that he had a hard time placing, all around him, and that confirmed he was not in the nest, or anywhere even remotely recognizable. Elliot could hear a great crashing, like waves, echoing all around him, the sound likely seeming louder due to its even repetition. Accompanying the crashing, was the almost metallic sloshing of water. These two sounds were strongest, and worked seamlessly together to make an almost ungodly racket, perhaps because it was constant and unrelenting. Under that sound, was another, smaller sound, and smell, that breached the salty sea air that the place reeked of. The other sound was like twigs cracking, and wind; it smelt like smoke. Elliot quickly placed the other sound as a fire, likely small, and well contained, because it didn't roar like a natural fire would, but fire was always very dangerous.

All of these things added up to a very strange environment, even with his eyes firmly shut, and for the life of him, Elliot could not remember how he'd ended up in a place where water echoed and fire stayed dormant. His environment was an important thing to consider, but his own physical condition could not be ignored either. Just laying there, he felt achy, exhausted, damp, and cold. And he couldn't feel the familiar weight of his clothes, of all the layers he'd put on to keep warm when he left. The thought that he was devoid of any clothing, made him shiver just at the thought. It was cold, but it wasn't unbearably cold either, which struck him as odd. Realistically, he should have just frozen to death, and never woken up. He rationalized that the fire likely helped.

Whatever he'd done, there was no doubt in his mind that it had been something incredibly stupid. He was always being childish, impulsive, and flying off the handle, often leading him to drastic consequences. Elliot had no doubt that his current predicament was no different.

He wanted to get up and move, to see if he could get back to his nest, if at all possible, but he needed to be quiet, and careful; both things he was inherently bad at. Elliot was constantly having to remind himself that he didn't have the freedom to be stupid and reckless, because it was always his default reaction.

Elliot slowly half opened his left eye. He had a fifty-fifty chance that whatever had brought him there, wouldn't catch one eye opening over the other. He was definitely in a cave, and a dark cave at that. The only light that reached him was a few rays, from an opening in the top, where small strings of smoke billowed out, and a soft glow to his right, likely where the fire was crackling, though he couldn't see the fire itself. It was on his other side.

Fire was inherently fascinating to him, possibly because of his youth and general tendency to appreciate destructive things; the warmth that a fire could provide was intoxicating, but it's destructive capabilities made it something that all avian instinctively avoided. Avian lived in trees, and fire ate trees, it only stood to reason that they would avoid it. Living in tree tops mean rationally avoiding it all together, but now that Elliot couldn't fly, and was spending more time on the ground than he'd ever done in his life previously, he was all the more enchanted by it. He really wanted to inspect the fire more, but knew that he had to be quiet, clam, and careful. So instead, he fought the urge to scoot closer to the source of heat.

Avians had never been good at seeing in the dark, so what little light he had helped greatly in letting him see what was around him. It was a simple cave, though cluttered with a variety of strange shadowy objects he was having a hard time making out, and he couldn't hear anything other than the crashing waves, water, and the fire. He laid on cold stone and he was definitely cold and damp, but the overall space didn't seem as chilly as the rest of the winter world had been. The fire probably helped.

Tentatively, he closed his left eye, and opened the right, not nearly as cautious as he had been before. This time, he could see a great deal more. The cave wasn't too large, but it could make a nice little home if it needed to. He could see that the stone floor of the cave eventually gave way to dark blue water, and as he watched it slosh in and out, he was thankful that he had been placed at the far end of the cave, almost against the cave wall, and as far away from the water as he could get.

But as he continued to look around, it seemed like the water really was the only exit to the cave. Sure, there was that small bit of light up above him, but he had no doubt that he was far too large to crawl out of it. Maybe if he didn't have his massive wings, he might have been able to squeeze through, likely injuring himself in the process. He was small -avians were by nature- but his wings easily took up almost half of his body mass, they needed to be that big to fly.

He tried looking around more, to find an alternate way out of the cave, but he just couldn't see any other obvious options from where he lay. What he also couldn't see, was anyone else in the cave save for him. He couldn't be positive, but he was pretty sure he was on his own, because he couldn't hear anything breathing, and he couldn't detect anything moving. That, in and of itself, was some sort of a relief. Fairly sure at that point that he was alone, Elliot opened both eyes, and sat up, which surprisingly took more effort than he would have guessed. Whatever had dragged him here was probably going to eat him, though he certainly hadn't heard of any predators not killing their prey before dragging it off to the den to be devoured, or leaving it unattended for that matter, but that certainly didn't mean it was impossible.

One way or another, he had to get out of the cave, before whatever lived there came home, and the cave was most certainly lived in. Inside was a great hodgepodge of pretty things, coral, sea glass, shells, and lots and lots of strange human trinkets, some of which even he had never seen before. Elliot even noticed his clothes - all of them - scattered out around the cave, most of them draped over larger items, as if who ever had taken them off him, wanted them to dry. Without a doubt, it was a home of some sort, but from the strange assortment of things, he couldn't fathom what kind of a creature would accumulate all these odd, bizarre things, and stow them away in a dimly lit, noisy cave where the only entrance was from the water. It didn't make much sense at all.

He wracked his brain for an answer, evaluating who could get in and out of such a place, who would even want all of these strange things, and more importantly, what sort of thing would bring him here, as if he was just another one of the many treasures scattered across the cave. Maybe he was just an easy meal. After much thought on the matter, which was mostly him trying to disprove his initial conclusion and failing, Elliot eventually deciding that the most likely culprit was the mer. He had seemed quite taken with human things, if his interest in the book had been any indication, and now that Elliot thought on it, he distinctly remembered the mer calling his name for some reason, though the circumstances around it were all quite hazy.

Maybe this was where the mer stored all of his nifty little things, the possibility seemed likely, but even still, it wasn't something Elliot was willing to bet his life on. Even if this was the black haired mer's little cave, how was he to know if mer didn't eat avian. Or any small defenseless thing that happened to be available. He hadn't taken notice of it before, but now that he thought back on it, the mer did have very large, pointy teeth, and long sharp nails. His curiosity and hunger had over ruled any really important observations before, but now that he was stuck in this cave, he felt a sinking realization hit him. Even if it was the mer that had brought him here, he could still be a meal.

It hadn't even occurred to him before, because the mer had been able to speak, and had fed him. But wasn't that how most fables went? The carnivore tricking the dumb prey into its lair, then gobbled it up. Elliot had always read those stories and scoffed at just how dumb the poor defenseless little animal had been. Now he wasn't so sure he was any smarter.

The thought was a sobering one, and he vowed with every fiber of his being that he would get out of this cave, one way or another. He was Elliot Nightray, so surely if anyone could do it, he could.

Elliot slowly got to his feet, only to find that his left foot would not support him and went tumbling down to the cave floor again. He hadn't even noticed it before, but his left food hurt, not unbearably so, but he didn't think putting too much pressure on it would be a good idea either. Only as he thought about it, did he look around for his boots, and found both of them, sopping wet, in a corner of the cave. One of them looking quite mangled. He glared down at the foot in irritation. The damn thing was tightly wrapped in what looked like the white clothe he'd used to wrap his wings in. Though now the clothe was quite bloody.

Elliot looked at the wrapping inquisitively. If the mer had wrapped his foot -and there weren't any other culprits that would have- it seemed safe to assume that he wasn't going to be eaten, but Elliot was hesitant to just dismiss the idea all together. For all he knew, the blood would attract other predators, and the mer would have to share, so it was just easier to keep the blood from splashing all over the place. Even if he wanted to believe the mer was trying to help him, Elliot had to think smart, had to be cautious, things he was historically bad at. He couldn't leave any possibility up to chance.

Certain that he likely wouldn't be able to use his foot any time soon, Elliot took to limping around the cave instead, and even though that hurt, it hurt less than actually walking on the foot. Trying to be quick, Elliot limped about the cave, feeling around the walls for some way of escaping, and bumping loudly into the various trinkets and bobbles scattered haphazardly around the cave as he went. The more he felt around though, the more obvious it became that the water was the only real exit, and even if he had been able to fit through the opening at the top of the cave, with his foot injured, there wasn't much chance he'd be able to even reach it.

That definitely left the water as the only choice, but Elliot was hesitant to just dive in. He wasn't sure how deep the cave entrance was, and he'd never been a very strong swimmer. And this was all assuming that he could swim at all with his foot in its current condition. He thought he probably should have been able to, but that hardly meant he _would_ be able to. Not to mention that was only the primary concern, if he made it to shore at all. The ocean was a treacherous place, his wings were cumbersome underwater, and his skills in the water had never been anything to brag about. It was very likely that he'd just drown. If he did reach the shore, and that was a big if, what then? It was relatively warm in the cave, still cold, but undoubtedly warmer than it was outside. It was cold out there, and he'd be completely wet when he got out of the water. There was no way he could survive the cold in such a state. His wings should of been fine, they were relatively water proof, but his flesh was far from water resistant, and hardly well insulated for the cold, even in optimal situations. If he left with his clothes on -and he was hesitant to just leave them- they would be wet, and he'd either have to leave them behind any way, and hope he could make it back to the nest without them, or struggle with wet clothes in below freezing temperatures. No matter how he looked at it, his options weren't good.

The most obvious choice was for him to wait. It seemed pretty reasonable that the mer had taken him here to help, but it wasn't something Elliot could just outright assume either. And if the mer did show up, intent on eating him, there was no way Elliot would be able to get away. With his options so limited, staying surely seemed like the most reasonable option out of a litany of poor choices. But Elliot, was certainly not the most reasonable sort of person.

He'd already decided that he was getting out of that cave, one way or another. And if the only way out was to swim, he was damn well going to do it. He took a deep breath in and out, solidifying his resolve. He'd have to leave the clothes behind. They'd be more likely to drag him down and drown him, and they'd be more than useless when he got out of the water, in fact, they'd be a detriment. He'd have to rely on his wings to keep him warm once he was out, and wrap them as tightly around himself as he could. And he'd just have to hope that nothing interested in eating him would come along. He'd also have to limp, or drag his injured foot all the way back to the nest, likely in the dark eventually. From the quality of light filtering through the top of the cave, it was pretty obvious that the sun was already setting. And to top it all off, if he did somehow manage to make it back to his nest alive, he'd then have to climb up the tree, without a foot. But he reasoned that his arms were strong, much stronger than they looked, and he could probably do that, even though he'd likely bang up his injured leg in the process.

That was, probably one of, if not the, dumbest thing he had ever even considered attempting, but Elliot was positive he could make it work. He'd made every other dumb decision work before, so he'd make this one work too. But just thinking about not being able to breathe made him nervous, so he inhaled and exhaled dramatically at least three more time, before taking a practice run at holding his breath. It felt like a really long time until his lungs ached, and he had to take a breath, but it probably hadn't been long at all. Taking a few more deep breaths, he tentatively edged closer to the water, gulped, and looked down into its murky depths.

Staring back at him were two bright purple eyes, wide and inquisitive, and Elliot found that he couldn't even breath. In one fast, seamless motion, a black mane of hair popped out of the water, the mer's face only inches from Elliot's.

"Boo."

Elliot screamed. Probably loudly like a girl, but he didn't notice, and didn't care. He scrambled to get away from the water, banging his left foot in the process, but not caring in the least. He kept crawling backwards till his wings and back hit the cave wall hard, his wings aching in protest, but even that didn't stop him. He continued to move against the wall, trying to get as far as possible from the water, and the mer. When he reached the farthest point he could, his heart was beating erratically, and he was looking around desperately for something to defend himself with, but came up distinctly empty. He was a flight creature, not a fight creature, and though there were random objects scattered about that he could reach, he couldn't really think of how exactly he would use them to keep the mer away.

"Shhh, calm down." The statement was chiding, irritated, and confused, and where as it did bring Elliot's attention squarely toward the mer, it didn't stop the pounding of his heart or lungs. The mer held up his hands, obviously trying to show that he meant no harm, but all Elliot could see were the massive claws on the mer's webbed fingers, and it didn't ease him at all.

Again, the mer seemed confused, tilting his head, his mouth in a slight frown. The other boy seemed to sigh, before his frown deepened. "Elliot, it's okay. The wolves are gone, nothing's going to hurt you here. Look-" with a sudden bob, the mer was gone again under the water. Elliot's breathing slowed just a bit, and he looked at the water, expecting something to happen. He didn't wait long before the mer popped his head out of the water again, smiled, and tossed a fish towards him. "I caught you food."

With the fish wiggling in front of him, Elliot's stomach made a violent growl, and he realized just how empty it was. Without even thinking of the consequences, he snatched the fish up and started tearing into it. Even if it was his last meal, he was going to eat every morsel of it. Elliot didn't pay attention to the mer while he was eating, but once he was done, he noticed that the black haired boy had hoisted himself up onto the cave floor, so that his purple tail was flopping, half in, and half out of the water, but he mer was predominantly out of the water, sitting on the stone floor of the cave. It gave Elliot immediate pause, but he noticed the other fish held in the mer's hand, and he couldn't rip his eyes away from them.

Noticing where the avian's eyes were, the mer smiled at him, and tossed another fish. "You can eat as much as you like. I'll get you more if you want." Elliot reached for the new fish, but was more composed this time when he tore into it, keeping his eyes firmly planted on the mer. In response, the mer's mouth morphed into something akin to pity, not quite a smile, and not quite a frown, but resembling both. The mer sighed again. "I didn't realize you were this jumpy. Guess you _are_ more delicate than you look."

It was an insult, but Elliot hardly felt like retorting back. He'd sort of settled into a wary realization that he was probably safe, but the after effects of being absolutely panicked clung to him like dust mites; he found himself largely exhausted, and irritable. Movement was difficult, his wings and left leg ached, and his stomach hadn't gotten over being entirely empty either, though that would likely pass. At least he wasn't cold though, and he didn't feel like he was going to keel over, or be ill, so that was also a step in the right direction.

Even though he took a much longer time to finish the second fish, he still finished exceptionally fast, and when he was done, he took time to delicately lick the blood off of his hands. Once he had finished, he shifted his gaze back to the mer, not exactly sure what was supposed to happen next. The whole situation, in and of itself, was inherently bizarre. The mer just smiled at him, and raised another fish from the pile. "Want another one?"

Elliot thought about the question, but shook his head, offering a soft, barked "No" to go with it. Again, the mer seemed confused, but he shrugged dismissively. "Suit yourself." The mer then tore into the fish with his teeth, certainly less rabidly than Elliot himself had done. The mer almost seemed to pick at his food, choosing which parts were worth eating, and tossing the undesirable parts back into the watery depths. When the mer caught Elliot staring, he frowned back. "Don't look at me like that. I'm not starving. I can afford to be picky. Besides, bones and eyes are not yummy." The mer gave Elliot a dismissive wave, before finishing off his fish, and grabbing another from the pile, picking at that one in just the same fashion.

To Elliot's amazement, the mer ate three more, five good sized fish in total, before dumping the rest of his pile back into the water, where the remaining catch swiftly swam away.

His meal done, the mer turned back towards Elliot, and this time there was a definite scowl on his face. "A thank you would be nice. I only brought you to a safe place, made a fire for you, _and_ fed you." The mer's scowl seemed to soften some, but it still stayed in place.

Having it stated so plainly, Elliot really couldn't deny that thanks were definitely in order, but he found he was too exhausted to really do more than offer a gruff "Thanks" in response, to which the mer's scowl deepened.

"What's wrong now? I wrapped up your leg, I built you a fire, I fed you. You should be fine now, but you still look horrible." To Elliot's surprise, the mer used his arms to crawl right over to him, flopping from side to side in a very ungraceful way, and getting far closer than Elliot thought he could, at a far faster speed than Elliot would have anticipated. Instinctively, Elliot backed up against the wall, but he was already against the wall, so the movement only seemed to make him want to disappear into it. As close as the mer was at that moment, it was suddenly very, very obvious that they were two very different sized creatures. It hadn't been obvious in their last few meetings, and Elliot had been to spooked to notice much of anything when the mer had showed up earlier, but this close, it almost seemed like the mer was twice his size. Even bigger than a human would be, and that was daunting.

If the mer noticed Elliot's discomfort, it went unmentioned. Before Elliot knew it, the mer was right up in his face, so close that Elliot could smell the fish on his breath, and feel cold hands touching him. "You really are delicate. Your bones are a lot thinner than I thought." The mer's cold hands felt around Elliot's wrist in something akin to amazement, and Elliot couldn't suppress a shiver at just how cold the mer's hands were. The mer didn't seem to notice, instead, he seemed surprised that he could wrap his thumb and forefinger around the avian's wrist completely, and that there was still room after to wiggle a finger or two through the excess. "You're pale too, is that normal?"

The mer compared their hands, looking at how small Elliot's were in comparison, and poking at Elliot's much lighter flesh. Then the mer put their hands together, to really gadge the difference in size. In comparison, Elliot's hand looked childlike, and he couldn't help the swell of irritation that came with that realization. The mer cocked his head in confusion, before turning his head back up to be level with Elliot's.

"You have these big dark splotches under your eyes that you didn't have before too." The mer's fingers went straight up to Elliot's face, and without thinking, Elliot tried to turn his face away, and squinted his eyes shut. The whole situation was too much for him, and the thought of those cold fingers touching him anymore was highly unnerving. But, the touch never came, hesitantly Elliot opened his eyes again, only to see that the mer had gotten even closer. At this range, Elliot could spy the bright purple of the mer's eyes behind his mass of hair. With his eyes open again, the mer seemed to take that as permission to keep touching, and extended his webbed, clawed finger towards Elliot's face. It freaked him out, but the mer seemed to take special care in only using the pad of his finger, keeping the long claw away from Elliot's face as best he could. The mer felt under Elliot's eye, gently rubbing at the tender skin below it, before pulling his hand back, and looking at the finger. He looked puzzled, and it occurred to Elliot that the mer had expected the black splotches under his eyes to jut come off when he'd rubbed them, and was quite confused when they didn't. The mer then repeated the same process with the mole right under Elliot's left eye, and after having similar results, looked just as confused.

But the mer dismissed his confusion quickly, and turned back to Elliot, this time bringing his large hands to rest on the side of Elliot's head, moving it back and forward in an attempt to inspect it. "Does your head hurt? It looks okay, but you did fall, and you've been acting weird." With the examination seemingly over, the mer let go of Elliot, suddenly more interested in an overall appraisal. Without even realizing it, Elliot curled in on himself.

If he had thought being in an underwater cave with a fire and a mer feeding him had been odd, being physically appraised by said mer was outright bizarre. Probably the most bizarre thing that had ever happened to him. Elliot really just wanted to fall asleep, and wake up in his cold but comfortable nest, far away from the sound of the ocean, the dampness that permeated the air, and from the strange dark haired mer that had obviously never learned what personal space meant. Elliot was at his wits end, to exhausted and out of it to even be indignant about the situation he found himself in.

Seeming to come to some conclusion, the mer snapped his fingers, and nodded his head. "Maybe you just need to sleep? Are you still tired? You didn't sleep for long. Land things sleep much longer than that."

Elliot figured that the mer was absolutely right. He was exhausted, and even though sleeping in such strange company was likely a very bad idea, Elliot found that he didn't care. If the mer was going to eat him, at least he'd do it while Elliot was asleep - though at this point he didn't seriously think he was on the menu.

Elliot found the strength to nod his head, but little else, as he slumped against the cave wall, his eyes incredibly heavy. The mer nodded in response. "You should sleep. You aren't fun when you don't talk back." Having decided that it was the right thing to do, the mer approached him again, situating Elliot into what Elliot found to be a surprisingly comfortable laying down position, taking special care of how his wings were positioned, in an attempt to make sure they wouldn't hurt. Having the mer's cold hands on him again wasn't comfortable at all, but Elliot found he didn't care, and tried to rationalize that the mer was trying to be nice, even if the dumb fish likely had no idea what that actually meant.

Once Elliot was down, it hardly took any time at all for him to fall into a deep, dreamless sleep.

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I will not be home much tomorrow, so you get a very early (and or late) update. Thank you for sticking with me this long!


	8. Chapter 8

To the mer's surprise, Elliot fell asleep the second his head hit the floor. The mer blinked in confusion; he'd never seen an animal fall asleep so fast. Unsure if he was misjudging things, the mer called out Elliot's name a few times, before realizing that the avian really was asleep. The final step was a small poke to the avian's shoulder, and when that yielded no results, the mer was very confident that Elliot was, indeed, sound asleep.

Thinking over the events of the day, the mer decided that it probably wasn't so surprising, but still found it quite odd. He almost always had trouble sleeping, having to force himself to sleep out of sheer necessity, and often wasting hours trying to convince himself it was something he had to do. In fact, the mer found himself envious that it had come so easily to Elliot. That certainly wasn't fair, but he figured that he wouldn't have swapped days with the avian in a million years. He'd had his own close calls, and thinking of those, maybe it wasn't so strange the avian was exhausted. Besides, he'd proved far more breakable than the mer had originally thought, which was certainly a sobering reality the mer had not previously considered. The fact that Elliot was even alive after not being able to use his wings, had led the mer to believe that he was a much hardier animal than he actually was.

The wings were still breathtaking. The mer had been mesmerized by them the first time Elliot had shown them to him, and even after struggling with them to get the avian into the cave, the mer still thought they were absolutely incredible. He'd never seen wings so big, or feathers so gorgeous. And the avian's hair was so soft too! Mer hair was always thick and course, for keeping in heat, but Elliot's was light and fluffy, the complete opposite of his own. Maybe that was for flying, so that wind flew through it more easily. The mer certainly had no real idea, but it seemed like a valid conclusion.

Crawling over with his hands, the mer situated himself against the cave wall, Elliot's sleeping form to his left. Humans liked petting their pets, and the mer wondered if that was an okay thing to do himself. Elliot didn't like being called a pet, but even still, he sort of was. Besides, the mer had seen humans petting each other too, so it wasn't like it was only a thing to do to your pet, even if Elliot sort of was his pet at this point. Hesitantly, the mer poked the avian's head, waited, and then poked it again. When Elliot didn't stir, the mer figured it would probably be fine, so he slowly settled his hand on the avian's head, and moved it back and forth. But that only messed up the avian' hair. The mer frowned, and deciding that petting only one way was probably best, so he pet one way, lifted his hand, returned it to its original spot, and pet again.

Once he got the motion down, the mer decided that it was actually a very nice thing, petting. Maybe he'd see if Elliot liked petting him some time. Confident in his new found skill, the mer leaned back his head, his hair clumping and falling off to the side in places.

"Elliot. Elliot." The mer angled a look down at the avian once more, before turning his head back upward, watching the light as it slowly disappeared from the cave opening. "I'm jealous you have a name."

The mer continued to watch the little opening of the cave, watching for the light to disappear, so that he could start to see stars. He loved looking at the stars. "Do you have a family that gave you your name?" The mer paused there, but continued his petting, his head still angled upwards at the cave's opening. "That isn't fair at all. I don't like it." The mer's voice remained even, and he continued the rhythmic motions of running his fingers through the avian's hair. It was oddly soothing.

"But I've picked a name too. So you don't call me mer, or fish." The mer puffed at that. If Elliot had a name, it was only fair that he had a name too. "You'll call me Leo. It's what humans call one of the constelations. It's suppose to be a lion, but I don't know what a lion is, so I don't understand that." The mer paused there, chanting the name over and over in his head, familiarizing himself with it. "It's a good set of stars though. It isn't around all the time, but I can always spot it when it's there."

The mer smiled as the last bits of the sun's light disappeared. Soon, he'd see some stars. "Leo. Make sure you get it right, Elliot."

Leo stayed up late into the night, watching through the little crack in the wall's ceiling, and pointing out stars that he knew, and ones he hadn't, but that he'd named himself. He decided that at some point, he'd have to name one Elliot, but he'd have to find a good one. That might take a while.

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This part is very small, for this, I apologize.


	9. Chapter 9

Elliot woke to singing, or more accurately, he dreamt of singing. In his dream, it had been his sister singing, but it hadn't been her voice. She sang nonsense, twirling her fingers in her hair and putting on a show in the air, swooping and diving, spinning and flipping. And he hated her beautiful black wings, and how they soared through the air, because he was stuck at the bottom of the tree, buried in snow, unable to reach her no matter how he tried to. It was such a beautiful song, and Vanessa looked so happy, just flitting around as if the air meant nothing to her, the deepness of the voice was unnatural for her, but Elliot didn't notice. He hated her for still being able to fly, for leaving him behind, for not just tossing him out of the nest like Vincent had joked about when they thought he'd been asleep, for taking up their resources when he was useless to them, and he hated himself for hating her. She'd been nothing but a good sister to him, and he couldn't help resenting her, and every other avian that danced in the sky. He was a horrible brother. She would have been better off if he wasn't there when she returned.

He slowly sank deeper into the snow, heard the splashing of water, and knew that it was melting around him, the snow swiftly turning into a great body of water, tossing him back and forth. The music halted and ice fell on his face, cold spots that lingered.

Quite suddenly, Elliot opened his eyes, and looked up to see black hair reaching down towards him, purple eyes barely distinguishable behind the curtain of black.

"You slept a very long time." The mer stated, his hair swaying back and forth, and large eyes blinking. "Do you feel better?"

Memories from when he'd woken up the last time flooded back to him, and Elliot found himself trying to melt into the cave floor. The mer had proven to be kind, in his own strange little way, but there was no denying how much bigger the mer was in comparison to himself. It was hard not to feel uncomfortable with such a large thing right on top of him, not to mention that the mer didn't seem to know what personal space was.

Realizing that he had been asked a question, Elliot maneuvered his way out from under the mer, and sat up as best he could before answering. Or, more accurately, trying to answer. When Elliot tried to speak, all that came out was a raspy sound that should have been a word, but definitely wasn't. The action in and of itself made him incredibly thirsty, and it was only then that he realized just how parched he was. The thought of water filled his mind, and would not go away.

The mer seemed to sulk, another frown coming to his face. "Is there something wrong with your mouth now? You're such trouble!" The mer closed the distance Elliot had put between them, and reached for Elliot's face with deathly cold fingers. More aware of his surroundings this time, and not looking to repeat the whole inspection fiasco that had taken place previously, Elliot attempted to push the mer away. He would have done it lightly, but the mer was so much larger than him, he felt he needed all of his strength to even move the other creature.

At the push -which didn't move the mer at all- the mer seemed to scowl even harder. "I don't understand. I put you in a safe place, I kept you warm, I stopped your foot from bleeding, I fed you, I made you sleep. You should be better now." The mer seemed frustrated, and in his irritation grabbed onto the avian's hand, which was pressed against the mer's chest, likely tighter than he had intended. At the force of the mer's grip, Elliot yelped, surprised by the pain of it, and the raspyness of his own voice. Making sound was very difficult, and even hurt.

The mer seemed surprised at the action, loosened his grip on Elliot's hand, and inspected it. The frown stayed, and finally purple eyes looked up at Elliot again. "Did that hurt?" There was a genuinely puzzled quality to the question.

Elliot wanted to say something along the lines of "Yeah you fucking moron! What were you thinking!?" but seeing as how that would likely hurt, he settled on nodding instead.

At seeing the response the mer looked guilty, and Elliot knew without a doubt that the mer hadn't meant to hurt him. Slowly, the mer backed up a bit. The mer turned his head away, and Elliot felt instantly guilty for being upset. It was obvious the mer hadn't even realized he had held to hard.

"You're new, for me. And very small and breakable. I didn't realize it before." The mer huffed. "If I hurt you, you have to say something. I'll try not to do it again."

Feeling dark eyes on him Elliot nodded in understanding. As if that would be a hard thing to do. Elliot had a mouth on him, and he'd be hard pressed not to say something when he wanted to. Though, at that exact moment, he didn't seem to have much of a choice. He tried to get something out, something reassuring, and maybe even nice, but it came out as a disgusting, raspy, croaking sound, and Elliot stopped immediately, because just making that sound was painful, both to his throat, and to hear.

Again, the mer looked confused. "Your neck wasn't hurt, I don't understand." Seeming to have forgotten his original reason for distance, the mer crept closer to Elliot once again, inspecting his neck, and then looking at his mouth. "Is something stuck in there?" The mer was reaching, with those cold fingers with those long claws attached, and Elliot had to hold his hand up and shake his head emphatically to convince the mer not to open up his mouth and look inside. The mer frowned at being denied his inspection, and crossed his arms over his chest. "Then what is it? Are you still mad and not talking, or is something wrong?" Elliot swore he could hear some mumbling after the statement, but he dismissed it.

Preparing for the pain his throat would provide, Elliot was able to croak out a stuttered, disjoined "Water" which ended up being far more difficult than he had hoped. But once it was out, the mer only looked at him in utter confusion.

"Water? You need water?" The mer flicked his head towards the entrance of the cave, where the water softly lapped against the cafe floor. "There's water there." Elliot stared at the mer in disbelief. That was most definitely salt water, and he couldn't drink it. That's why the ocean was such a horrible place, so much water and not a drop to drink. Elliot shook his head emphatically. Salt water would not do. He needed fresh water.

The mer seemed confused. "You just said water, but then shook no to this water?" The mer almost seemed insulted when Elliot nodded confirmation. "Whats wrong with this water? It's good water."

Maybe all sea creatures were just insane. Elliot hadn't known any before, so there was no way to really test that theory, but it seemed legitimate. Elliot couldn't help the irritation that came with the thought. He shook his head, no, again. This time croaking out a "Fresh water" that still sounded horrible, and hurt. He clutched at his throat, because the pain was getting worse every time he used it. He sure hoped water was all he needed, but with how much it was hurting, he had his doubts.

Again, the mer just looked annoyed, his large purple tail twitching, in what Elliot assumed was irritation. "Fresh water? This water is fresh! I swim in it all the time, it isn't bad water." With his statement made, the mer started moving towards the water, faster than Elliot thought he should be able to, since he was flopping around ungracefully, only using his hands. Once the mer got to the water, he motioned for the avian to come over, then cupped his hands into the water, and bringing out as much as his hands could carry, water dripping out as he did. "Elliot, come here. It's good water, I'll prove it."

Elliot saw the mer lift the water up to his mouth to drink it, and all he could think was that salt water would hurt anything. Without even realizing what he was doing, Elliot was across the small cave as fast as he could, trying with all his might to stop the mer from drinking it, screeching at the top of his lungs -in disgusting croaks that made his throat ache- "Salt! Salt!" Only as the mer had halted and was looking down at him quite confused, did Elliot realized that the damn thing lived in the ocean. Salt water was probably okay for the mer, which made sense as to why the mer thought he could also drink it. And once Elliot realized that, he felt incredibly foolish for over reacting, and practically throwing himself at the mer so that it wouldn't drink salt water. All he had thought of at the time was how dangerous salt water was for him, and he'd reacted.

The mer was still looking at him confused, at the outburst, the words, or at why he didn't want to drink salt water, Elliot could not tell. But for whatever reason, the mer seemed to be thinking it over quite seriously, because when he really looked back at Elliot, he nodded. The mer let all the water trickle back into the ocean, and turned to the avian. The mer reached over to remove Elliot's hands, making sure to be gentle, and then smiled. "I think I understand. Is salt water bad for you?"

Instant relief flooded his system. Elliot had been worried that he'd have to explain the whole thing, and with his throat the way it was, that would be painful. In response, he simply nodded, and settled into a sitting position on the cave floor. Now that he wasn't panicked, or embarrassed horribly, Elliot's foot hurt again. He hadn't even realized he'd used it until just then, but he obviously had, since he'd gotten across the cave so fast.

The mer smiled brightly, obviously pleased that he had figured out what exactly he needed to get, but the look faded from his face an turned to confusion. "I don't know how to get water without salt." That was a problem. Elliot had been melting snow, and even eating snow for most of his water but snow would be difficult to get in an underwater cave. But, it occurred to Elliot that he was in a treasure trove of strange human things, and that it was very possible that there could be something useful around. Humans were notorious for making seemingly useless things, that actually turned out to be very useful. There should have been something in the cave that could help them.

Sure that he would find something that could be of use, Elliot started looking around the cave, appraising each item his eyes fell on. He found a variety of things, but most of them were useless for his task. It was only as he was looking, that the mer seemed to realize what he was doing, and ambled over to a far corner of the cave. "Here!" When Elliot looked back, the mer had a large pot of some sort. The mer crawled over to Elliot, -Elliot couldn't really understand how he'd done it one handed, but he had, and incredibly fast at that- handed the pot to him, and then quickly crawled over to another end of the cave and sorted through other things, tossing some things aside, and gently placing others, till he seemed to find what he was looking for. Now that Elliot really paid attention to how the mer moved, it really wasn't all that surprising that he'd hurt Elliot's hand, which was still sore. The mer seemed to have amazing strength in his arms. When the mer did find what he was looking for, he held it up and turned to Elliot once more. In his hand was a sort of rope.

"I can go out, and put snow in the jar. Snow doesn't have salt, I've tasted it before." The mer then motioned to the small opening at the top of the cave. "Then I'll climb up there, and lower the jar down to you."

Thinking that the plan would probably work, Elliot nodded, and the mer beamed. "Keep the pot. When I'm up there, I'll lower down the rope, and you'll tie the rope around the pot. Then I'll pull it up and gather snow for you, before sending it back down. That way, you won't get any salt." For all intensive purposes, the mer seemed very pleased with himself, and Elliot couldn't help but smile at how excited he seemed. Despite everything up to that point, Elliot had sort of assumed that the mer wouldn't be all that intelligent. It was probably his hubris as an avian talking, but he found himself pleasantly surprised at the mer's ingenuity.

Without anything else being said, the mer crawled over to the water entrance, with rope in hand, and was gone. Only to return a few seconds later, his head popping out of the water and startling Elliot.

The bobbing head gave Elliot a stern look. "Don't get hurt while I'm gone. Don't do anything. Just sit there. I'll have to deal with it if you get hurt, Elliot." Elliot had just enough time to look indignant, before the mer was once again gone.

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I will have very little free time in the morrow, so I'm posting this now. Again, I apologize for my lack of a consistent schedule.

**To Raq**: You are very sweet~ Thank you for the lovely review! I wish I could send you a proper response.


	10. Chapter 10

Elliot was loath to admit it, but he did just as he was told, and didn't do much of anything. What he did do constituted rhythmically tapping on the pot. He was thinking of a song he was composing, and was attempting to tap out the melody as best he could. Singing would be ideal, but there was no way he was going to go that far at this point. Despite his best efforts not to do much of anything at all -he was starting to develop some sort of appreciation for how weak he was in comparison to the mer, who was strong, and seemed very sturdy- he found his situation deteriorating. It wasn't hot in the cave, and it wasn't cold either. It was a comfortable temperature, still cold for him, but definitely reasonable. Despite that, he found himself getting cold and hot at the same time, and things started to ache that didn't have any right acting up.

He knew the feeling instinctively; it was the signs of an oncoming fever, if he didn't already have one. After the fall that had ruined his wings, he'd spent days hot, achey and delirious: bedridden and helpless. It scared him to think that he might return to that state. He didn't want it to get that bad, so he fumbled over to where his clothes were still hanging, taking care not to use his injured foot as much as possible, and hurriedly put on his dried clothes. There had been a lot of layers, and he piled them on as much as he could. If he could stay warm enough, maybe the fever would go away on its own, before getting too bad. The last thing he needed right now, was to be sick.

A loud "Elliot!" rang out from the top of the cave, and as the avian looked up, he could see a head of black hair looking down at him, scowling. "I said not to move!"

Elliot had enough good sense to look sheepish at not following the command, but there was already heat in his cheeks, so he wasn't sure if it showed or not. But once the mer saw that his clothes were back on, he seemed to brighten up for some reason. Elliot angled himself right under the cave's opening, and signaled for the mer to send down the rope, to which the mer complied. Once it was down, Elliot gripped the rope tightly, and then took a good look at the pot, thinking long and hard about how exactly he should tie the rope to it. It took him longer than it probably should have, and he happened to notice the mer on top of the cave looking very bored. Even still, when he wrapped the rope around the pot and tied a few different knots so that it would be stable going up and going down, he felt pleased with himself. The mer, did not seem impressed, and actually seemed far more interested in something outside of the cave, so Elliot tugged on the rope a few times to let the mer know that it was time to pull it back up. To Elliot's surprise, the mer was very careful with the pot on the way up, taking extra care to make sure it didn't bang on anything on its way.

Then the pot was up, and the mer reached out and grabbed it, before looking down into the cave, and frowning down again. "Elliot, stay put!" Elliot sheepishly nodded, glaring at the cave floor and noted the huff the mer gave in response, before the black haired creature was gone.

With all of his clothes back on, Elliot found himself much warmer, but it didn't seem to be helping much. The aching hadn't gone away, he was getting tired, and he found himself very irritated about it. It wasn't fair, now was the worst time for something like this. He was already relying on the mer for just about everything, he didn't want to get sick on him too. He didn't know if he could pass his sickness onto the mer, but that was definitely something he couldn't allow, if it was possible.

His anger bubbled and simmered, and simply would not go away. Eventually, Elliot settled for laying down and curling up into a ball, trying to keep all of his confounded germs to himself. He'd just started to fitfully drift off, when he heard an exaggerated "Ellllliooooooot" come from above him. The avian hoisted himself off of the cave floor, and turned his head up to look at the mer, who smiled back down at him, before starting to send the pot down.

Elliot paid close attention to the item on its way down, remembering how much care the mer had put into pulling the pot up, and mirroring that for the way down. When the pot was securely in his hands, the mer tossed down the rest of the rope. "Drink now, we're talking when I get back." Elliot nodded in acknowledgement, and the mer was once again gone.

Elliot didn't need to be told twice, and he eagerly licked at the snow in little bits. It was nice to have the water, even if it wasn't exactly how he'd like it. He could feel the chill of it as it passed down his throat, easily easing the pain that resided there. Elliot quickly finished off the whole pot, which, in and of itself, did not surprise him. He'd been incredibly thirsty, and looking at the sun, he likely hadn't had any water since the day before. That was a long time for him to go without water. It was only after he'd finished that he thought he probably should have saved some, but it was done now, and he thought there was no use worrying about it. Now that he thought on it, avian vocal cords were very delicate too, and that made him just as angry as everything else. It just wasn't fair.

Once the pot was empty -and licked clean- Elliot tried out some vocal exercises, and some tongue twisters. Whereas his voice was still on the raspy side, he could speak without it hurting, and it certainly didn't sound as bad as it had. It wasn't perfect, but it would do. Or, at least it would have to, the mer obviously wanted to have a decent conversation, and thinking on it, Elliot wanted to give it to him. It might have been the fever talking, but he felt that he'd gone stir-crazy in the weeks and months of isolation, even if in actuality he'd dealt with it as well as could be expected. He hadn't dwelt on his solitude, reading his books, and far more concerned about staying warm and eating, but now with the promise of active conversation, those months of silence seemed more painful than they had actually been.

It was probably the fever talking.

Besides, he had a bone to pick with that mer. Sure, he hadn't been eaten, he wasn't starving, -though some food would be nice- he was rested, and he'd gotten something to wet his palate, but besides all of that, he was still quite drained, and though that wasn't entirely the mer's fault, he also hadn't helped. Feeling a little better, Elliot felt his temper getting the better of him. He'd had to be level headed this whole time, because grumping and yelling at nothing was a huge waste of time. He'd even tried it a few times in the first few weeks, but it only served to make him feel even more miserable, and that had led him away from his typically aggressive temperament. The mer had a sharp tongue though, so in some ways, Elliot thought that perhaps this could work out.

He'd never been good with overly nice people, he always came off too abrasive, and perhaps a little on the violent side. Maybe a bigger creature could deal with how aggressive he usually was. Or maybe the mer would just get tired of it and eat him. The thought was entirely unwarranted, but Elliot supposed that if he was a big powerful meat eating predator, he might consider it.

Elliot placed the jar to his side, and then went for the rope, still coiled around on the floor of the cave. He patiently unknotted the rope from the jar, and wrapped it up so that it was more easily managed, then placed it down next to the jar. Elliot hated to admit it, but he'd probably need the mer to get him water again soon. Perhaps he should have asked for a second jar, but the mer hadn't offered, and Elliot had been too busy devouring the first one to really notice. He couldn't help scowling. This wasn't fair, he was being entirely taken care of, and he hated that, even when his siblings had to, it had been almost unbearable, let alone something he'd only known for less than a week. At this rate, he really would become a pet.

If he just sat there, he'd get more angry about the situation, so instead, Elliot preened. And once he'd started, he realized that his wings really needed it. They'd taken a beating, and it was obvious to anyone who knew what wings were suppose to look like. There was even still dried blood on his wing tips, and Elliot had to methodically clean them off using the salt water from the cave's entrance. It stung, and he hissed and cursed about it, but it would do him good in the end, so he kept at it. Once he was confident that the blood was gone, and that the bite marks on his wings would probably heal on their own, or at least scab over, Elliot went about straightening out his feathers, and running his fingers over them to take off anything that might have gotten stuck in them.

Preening always seemed to take a very long time, and though Elliot usually didn't have the patience for long activities where he wasn't doing a whole lot, preening was a glaring exception. He was more thorough than most avian, even now after everything, and the whole process actually helped to calm his temper. Preening was just one of those things he could do for hours and not get pensive, or irritated; music seemed to be the only other one he could think of.

He was close to the water that time, so when the mer popped out of it, Elliot noticed without being spooked, like he had been previously. The preening had helped to calm him down, and at that moment, he didn't even feel like being irritated with the mer. But oddly, the look on the mer's face looked more concerned than anything else. Elliot hobbled backwards as the mer hoisted himself up into a sitting position on the cave floor, with his tail still in the ocean, and water tumbling off of him.

"What are you doing?" The mer's voice was oddly concerned, and his mouth was turned down into a light frown.

Elliot found that to be a very dumb question, but rationalized that the mer likely hadn't ever spent any time around something with wings, so it probably wasn't that strange. "Preening. Wings take a lot of maintenance."

The instant reaction from the mer was a smile. He was obviously happy that Elliot was speaking again. But then mer seemed to take that statement in, cocking his head, and a small frown shifted to a more neutral expression. "Even wings that don't work?"

Elliot scowled at that, his face likely looking rather silly, and giving the mer an indignant look. "Feathers are sort of like hair. Hair doesn't feel, so if there's something in it, or it's matted you may not notice. But feathers are more important than hair, and mine are big. If you had bugs in your hair, you could probably live with it, though it might annoy you, but if I had bugs in my wings, that would be very bad for me." Elliot surprised himself with his even tone. He thought that the moment he'd start talking, he'd be griping and combative, but when faced with what seemed like honest curiosity, none of those things had surfaced. The mer just didn't know, and Elliot felt the need to tell him. It really felt that simple.

The mer seemed to accept the answer, nodding and thinking on it a few seconds. His hand idly went to his long mane of black hair, curling one finger around a long lock. "I think I understand." The mer then turned his gaze -or what Elliot thought would be his gaze, at this distance, he couldn't see the mer's eyes out of the mop of hair- back to Elliot. "You're very red. And your voice sounds different than it did before." The mer thought on that for a bit, before scrunching up his face. "You should have said so if you needed more water."

Taking note of where he stopped preening so that he could continue later, Elliot turned towards the mer, and crossed his arms in front of his chest. "I'm fine. My voice will get better on its own." His voice was still scratchy, and sounded bad, but it didn't hurt, and Elliot was sure given the proper time that it would right itself.

The mer looked concerned for a few minutes, before a smirk came to his face, and he softly shook his head. "You are fine, then. That scowl looks right at home on your face." Elliot gaped in frustration, and was about to retort back when the mer cut him off, and started talking again. "My name is Leo. So don't call me fish, or mer. And don't look so indignant, I can see it right on your face. You were going to call me a slimy fish again."

At the tone -both playful and chiding- Elliot snapped his mouth shut, and narrowed his eyes. To which the mer - Leo - only smirked back. "Red looks amusing on you, by the way. So just remember, that every time you get angry, all I want to do is laugh at your face. Loudly."

Elliot definitely wanted to be angry about that one, but instead settled for bringing his hand over his mouth, as if he was contemplating something, and looking away. He was sure his face was red, and not only from the fever. He happened to get a sideways view at the mer, only to see the most irritating smile plastered on his face.

"Stop grinning as if you've won some prize!" Elliot couldn't help but squawk back at Leo. To which the mer only seemed to smile brighter, and Elliot realized he was losing whatever footing he had. He needed a quick change of subject, before he became too engrossed in trying to get the mer to stop harassing him so. "W-what is this place?" Elliot motioned with his hand to the cave itself, trying to ignore the lingering heat on his face. "Is this where you live?"

In response, Leo cocked his head, and scrunched up his lips in thought, before shaking his head. "No. I don't live here. I just keep things here. Things I find." The mer looked around, likely taking in some of the various clutter that populated the cave. "It's a good place for hiding things, and no one else knows about it. I come here often."

Elliot didn't like the thought of just being another thing that the mer had stashed away in his little hideaway cave, but he was alive, so Elliot decided to let it slide. For just that one time. "You do have, a lot of...things." 'Things', taking the place of the word 'junk', which is what he really wanted to say. Even if he was bad at it, Elliot was trying to be polite.

Leo sighed contentedly, looking over his various things, and then seemed to remember something. He turned back to Elliot. "Which reminds me. You owe me a new book." It was only as Leo said it, that Elliot remembered the book at all. He'd been so absorbed with his situation that their agreement, and the tome had been entirely forgotten. But, he was sure that if he had seen it, he would have remembered it. The book either must have been well hidden in the cave, or gone, and with the thought Elliot started looking around for it without even realizing it.

An exaggerated sigh came from Leo, and Elliot angled a look over at him, to see the mer looking away, his face as close to pouting as Elliot had ever seen it. "You needed the fire, so you owe me a new book."

The statement hung in the air for a long time, before it actually occurred to Elliot what exactly it meant. But when he did realize it, Elliot found himself completely blank, eyes wide and mouth agape in shock. The mer didn't meet his gaze, or even look at him, just twirled a long finger around a black strand of hair, and puffed out his lips in that pouty way. Elliot's eyes shifted from Leo, to where the ashes of the small fire remained, then back to Leo, again to the ashes, and finally once more to Leo.

"You did _what_!?" Elliot all but bellowed, in anger and disbelief.

Leo outright flinched at the statement, and his pout turned into an outright frown. Elliot could feel a glare leveled at him. "Do I have to spell it out for you, moron. I burnt it! The whole damn thing!" The finger twirling around a strand of hair, instead moved, and fisted at the mer's side. His shoulders jumped higher and his neck pulled in, instead of extending out, but Elliot was far too absorbed in the fact that the book was gone to really notice.

He looked at the ashes that remained from the small fire, trying to keep his bottom lip from twitching. "T-t-that was priceless! It was hand written! I've never even heard of another copy, and you _burnt it_!?"

"What was I suppose to do!? I couldn't find anything else dry enough to burn! It snowed before you came, and things were melting. Everything else I could get my hands on was wet!" Leo bellowed back, obviously just as angry as Elliot was. Now that Elliot thought on it, this was the first time he'd really seen the mer angry. It was very unnerving, to have upset something almost twice his size, and Elliot knew instinctively that he needed to stop being unhappy and overly emotional, or the situation would escalate. Whereas, normally, Elliot was not someone who would back down from an argument, Leo was almost twice his size, and Elliot had to keep that in mind.

Despite that fact, it was hard for Elliot to just let the situation go altogether. "I can't believe it's gone. You really burnt it..." He settled for sullen and dejected instead of angry screaming. Ideally, he should have just changed the subject altogether, but the sad little pile of ashes was something he just couldn't ignore.

"You were freezing to death! Of course I burnt it!" At that point, what Elliot could see of Leo's face was a darker shade than it had been before, and to Elliot's eye, it almost looked purplish, instead of the very mild blue that the mer's skin tone usually was.

He was wondering if that was just how mer looked when they were angry, or blushing, when Leo reached for something next to him. It wasn't anything large, just a green glass bottle, with a few chips on the side, but as Leo raised it over his head, Elliot panicked. Leo was going to throw it at him, and with the amount of strength the mer had, it could really hurt him. Elliot felt the blood drain out of his face, and backed up instinctively. "Leo, calm down!" Elliot flinched at the sound of it. He'd wanted the statement to seem softer, more convincing than anything else, but it had come out harsher and more demanding than he had wanted.

Leo's anger appeared to boil, and then simmer, his mouth contorting into something Elliot couldn't place. The mer then tossed the bottle in the opposite direction from Elliot, and turned his back on the avian all together. Before Elliot could really think to respond, Leo had dived into the water, and was gone.

-\|/-

From here on out, we're unbetaed. I like constructive criticism. Just putting that out there.


	11. Chapter 11

Without anything to really do, Elliot found himself very, very bored. He still didn't feel well, but it wasn't as bad as it had been. He really should have just curled up and tried to sleep, but the whole exchange with Leo had made him jittery, and restless. He'd really screwed that up, and he needed to apologize for it, but he hated apologizing, and he was horrible at it. Often, he'd negate the apology with something demeaning, because just outright saying sorry was just so hard to do. But Elliot knew he couldn't do that now.

Leo had wanted that book. It was obvious that he had wanted it, and maybe he was even excited about Elliot reading it to him. Maybe that had been the only reason he'd saved Elliot at all. And despite the fact that Leo had wanted it, he'd had the rational mind to know that Elliot needed a fire, and had done what was necessary. In his place, Elliot wasn't sure he'd be able to do the same thing - keeping a cool head had never been his strong point. In all reality, the mer was exceptionally good at figuring out how to make things work, and despite that, all Elliot had been able to see was his precious book gone. But Leo had decided that his life was more important than the book, and Elliot had berated him for that. He had to apologize.

But that was harder said than done, and even thinking about it made him want to climb up into his nest, bundle up in his blankets and dead pine needles, and not come down for a week. Or wreck things, he could go for that too. But Elliot was not anywhere near his nest, couldn't reach it, and all of the things here, were Leo's things. He couldn't just break them, that was wrong too.

He should have just fallen asleep, but as it stood, that was impossible. So instead he ended up trying to pace, only to remember -quite painfully- that his foot was _still _quite injured. He berated himself for thinking that it would improve in such a short amount of time, but he had almost entirely forgotten about it. So instead, he angrily plopped down on the cave floor, trying to figure out what he should do. He eventually decided to finish preening, and picked up where he'd left off. But that surprisingly didn't take very long at all, and before Leo was back, his wings were in good condition, and Elliot was, once again, bored and restless.

It definitely wasn't his best idea, but after much internal debate -where the argument was to do nothing, or do this, which surprisingly was highly debated in his head- Elliot fumbled over to a pile of stuff stacked against one of the cave walls, and started rummaging through it.

At first, it was just something to kill time, even it was pretty damn rude to go through Leo's things. But there were just so many strange things that he'd never seen before, and Elliot found himself growing more curious as he went. The variety was staggering, there were all manner of things in this little cave, and the more Elliot looked, the more entranced by it all he became.

Then he found the box. It was a little thing, big enough to fit in both of his hands if he cupped them together, but it would likely fit perfectly in one of Leo's. It was intricately carved, with scrolling vines and flowers on the sides, and an intricate scale carved on the top, and a rusting golden latch keeping it closed. And as he held it in hand, he noticed a strange metal thing protruding from the bottom. Turning the box over, he inspected it, trying to figure out what exactly it was for. It didn't pop in, and it didn't pull out, so Elliot glared at it for a while, trying to will it to just make sense. Then he turned it, and it did turn one way, but not the other. Despite the inconsequential nature of that little discovery, Elliot found himself very pleased by it, and turned the thing a few more time around for good measure.

Then he delicately undid the gold latch, with some effort, and opened the box, to sound. It was a strange sound, like metal hitting itself at different pitches, to make a song, but at the same time, Elliot found it mesmerizing. The song itself was sad, and beautiful, and it amazed him that something such as a box with a windup in the back could sound so emotional. When the song ended, Elliot swiftly turned the box over, and turned the wind up again. As he had suspected, the song came back.

It was a beautiful song, and Elliot likely spent a long time listening to it, turning the wind up, and listening to it again. He found himself tapping out the melody with his fingers on the cave floor, where his claws made muted clicking noises, and humming the song to himself. He wondered if it was a song he could make lyrics too, or sing himself one day.

Elliot was so entranced by it, that he didn't even notice Leo come back, until he happened to open his eyes, looked up, and the mer was looking down at him. Again, Elliot yelped, and fumbled over, before snarling in irritation at the mer. Leo seemed to like sneaking up on him, and was disgustingly quiet for a huge, lumbering thing. Or perhaps Elliot was just oblivious; either way, the conclusion was concerning all the same.

"Don't do that!" Elliot barked, huffing over at the mer before he remembered that he was suppose to be nice and apologize. Instead he looked away in embarrassment. Even thinking of apologizing made him uncomfortable.

Before Elliot really had a chance to say anything more, Leo tossed a fish at him, that Elliot failed to catch, and which flopped loudly to the cave floor. The mer then muttered "eat" at him. The avian was hesitant to just go straight at it, since he had been in the wrong, and need to say so. The longer he put it off, the more likely he was to forget, or just not do it all together. He started to open his mouth, fumbling over what exactly he should say, only to get a firmer frown from Leo, and a more insistent "Eat!" The bark in the mer's word made Elliot flinch, and he found himself feeling much less inclined to apologize, even though he knew he still needed to. This ordering him around thing was not an appealing trait.

Elliot didn't even think about it before his face was screwed up in a frown, and his arms instinctively crossed over his chest. If Leo noticed, he didn't say anything, instead biting at a fish himself, and looking off at nothing. That pissed off Elliot even more. It could have been the general irritation that came with his current state of being, it could have been that he had very little common sense, or it really could have just been the fever making him hotter than usual, but at being ignored, it was impossible for Elliot to reign in his temper.

"Don't just order me around! That's not how this is going to work!" Elliot bellowed at the mer, his temperature rising, and his anger souring. "Don't think that just because you're bigger you get to tell me what to do!"

Elliot could see the mer's bottom lip scrunching up against the top, in something that Elliot might have called pain, if he had seen it anywhere else. Here, it seemed so out of context, that he found he simply couldn't place it. He only had a few minute to realized the shift, before Leo was back into the thick of their disagreement. "If you don't want to eat, then starve to death! What do I care, you foul tempered weakling." The mer turned back to his fish, his expression again, pained. "Exit's right there. Swim out on your own. You can go die in your precious forest."

In truth, the avian was sorely tempted to do just that -minus the dying part of course. He wanted out of this cave; he wanted winter to end, for his family to come back, and for his wings to work again. But Elliot knew that none of those things were probably going to happen any time soon. Yes, he might leave the cave, but not without the mer's help, and probably not till winter at least went into a lull, and the temperature rose a bit. As Elliot had understood it, he'd almost frozen to death when Leo had brought him to the cave, and it was relatively warm within the cave. If he was to just leave now, he'd never make it home. He'd never see Vanessa again, never finish the book he was reading, and all the songs he'd never written down would be gone forever. It would all be over, and he'd have his own folly to blame for it. The mer had gotten him into this mess -likely without thinking through the consequences- but as it was, there was very little Elliot could on his own.

There really was no sense of fair at all. Leo had tried to save his life, and had done so, only to trap the avian in a cage, that he could not get out of on his own. He really was stuck, and he had the mer's good intentions to blame, but that hardly seemed fair, even if he wanted to get angry about it. Just like with the book, Elliot knew he was in the wrong. The mer was feeding him, trying to make sure he didn't die, and attempting to be nice in a variety of, albeit, strange ways. Elliot was just too dumb to see it at first glance. The mer _was _going to have to feed him daily, and the mer _was _going to have to get him water every day. That was just the situation Elliot found himself in, and though it made his blood boil, and his pride ache, he was going to have to accept that, at least until the temperature rose enough for him to leave, or the mer decided he was too much trouble to be bothered which. At the rate he was going, Elliot couldn't say for sure which would happen faster.

He was stuck. More stuck than he'd been before. Even after the fall, being confined to the nest had never been this tiring or stressful. He'd been angrier about that, but it had given him something to focus on, something to make getting better seem like more of an emotional force. Now, his anger worked against him, and it was hard to deal with that. It had always been his crutch before, but now it was only a hindrance.

No matter how Elliot tried to wrap his head around what words he should, and shouldn't use, he just couldn't say anything that mattered. Whenever he'd been sheepish, or afraid to speak in the past, he'd just gotten angry about it and stormed off, but that wasn't going to work here. He thought on it for what seemed like forever, before reaching over and grabbing the fish Leo had thrown at him. He ate the whole thing, every single morsel. And for the meal, he could finally say thank you, even if it was sheepish. Leo likely didn't even hear it, but he'd said it, and that had been hard enough on its own. He was going to have to work on this.

-\|/-

My strange schedule strikes again!

**To Raq: **I'm glad you're enjoying their interactions! These two are sort of defined by their tempers, right? So it had to come up at some point!


	12. Chapter 12

The cave was disgustingly silent, for a place that harbored a great deal of noise. The water echoed everywhere, and the more Elliot thought on it, the more it gave him a headache. But if he didn't think about it, he hardly even noticed it. Whereas the cave wasn't devoid of sound, it was lacking noise. Because noise was made by things, living things, and after Leo had finished his fish, he'd promptly escaped back through the cave's entrance. For all Elliot knew the mer might not come back, but he liked to think that he would. Still the environment was stifling, and despite being able to say thank you, he was still left feeling horribly irritated with himself.

Deciding that he couldn't just sit there, Elliot ambled over where he'd left the music box, making sure not to bang his foot on the way. But as he did, he noticed the sad little pile of ashes, that had been his book once, and had also been the fire that likely saved his life. Even if he knew the necessity of it, Elliot still lamented the loss. He loved books. Perhaps not all books, but books in general. They'd showed him affection when he'd lacked it from his family, they'd shown him how to be an honorable man, they'd picked him up after his fall, and they'd kept him company during this long winter. Books were important to Elliot, and it was upsetting to see one go, even though he had reaped the benefits of it.

Looking at that sad little pile of ash, Elliot got to thinking about the book it had once been. It had been an adventure story, about dragons and princesses, of fighting clans and corrupt officials. It had been a wonderful book, one he'd read many, many times. He'd contemplated bringing a different one, but he'd really wanted to start off their agreement on the right foot, so he'd brought one of his favorites. And though the book was gone now, it was still a story that Elliot would keep with him, hopefully forever. Details usually escaped him, but Elliot was good at remembering main concepts, and putting things into order. He'd miss being able to double check things, but he supposed it wasn't a book he'd never read before, and thus, it would make the passing easier.

Then for some reason, he thought about Leo, how the mer's eyes had tried to stay calm and collected when Elliot had mentioned books, but Elliot had noticed how interested the mer had been. He'd wanted a book, and the story that went with it. Perhaps that set the book aside from some of the things scattered around the cave. That book had a story, and now the mer would never get to enjoy it.

The minute the thought hit him, Elliot knew it was wrong. Wrong because Leo was going to hear that story, and Elliot was going to tell it to him. He didn't have the book, so a word for word read was impossible, but he could still tell the story to the mer. With a bit of effort, Elliot was sure he'd do a great job of telling Leo that story. The more Elliot thought on it, the more convinced he became. Actions spoke louder than words anyway, so that would be an excellent way of apologizing, and he would also remind Leo of their initial deal, and prove that he wasn't just an ungrateful wretch being taken care of - even if in the technical sense of the definition, he was. It was a project, and as always, Elliot desperately needed a project if he was going to be even semi manageable. Without some sort of goal, his temper was more volatile, and he was more likely to take minor things as serious offenses.

The more he thought of it, the more stable the idea became in his head, and Elliot found himself looking around the cave for something to write with. The cave filled with the noise of his search, the clattering of things being tossed, and the almost on tempo curses that flew out of Elliot's mouth. He seemed to search for a very, very long time, cursing Leo for being worse than a nesting bird at acquiring, and hoarding useless junk. Elliot had just about given up, and had wandered back to the music box, when he saw something white, discarded in one of the corners.

His first thought was paper, because out of the variety of things in the cave, very few of them were white. So Elliot ambled over there to inspect the thing. The thing turned out to be a rock, to which Elliot was absolutely disappointed and angry. Without thinking, he tossed the thing against the wall, positive that it was just another useless thing in these numerous piles of junk. But as the stone connected with the wall, it left a mark. A glaringly white mark against the cool dark of the cave wall.

Elliot hurried back to where the rock had fallen, and without skipping a beat, brought it up to the cave wall. He ran it across, just a bit, and his hopes were confirmed. The rock left a white mark where he'd drawn it across the cave wall. It wasn't exactly what he wanted, but it would do.

First, he set about writing about characters on the cave wall, trying to remember all of the primary characters, and what part they played in the story, as well as general traits. That took longer than he had expected; for some characters, he had a lot to put down, and he was constantly wandering back to add more notes that he had just remembered. For other characters, it was harder to remember, so he'd spent a lot of time staring at the name of that character, trying to figure out what they're part in the book had been, only to wander away to record a detail he'd forgotten somewhere else. Then he'd go back, and try to remember again. It was a long process, and his memory probably wasn't as good as it should have been, but once he was pretty sure he had most of them down, and well described, he started drawing lines between them. On those lines, he started labeling relationships as he went, and that helped answer some of the blank spots on the characters he'd been unsure about.

Once he felt done enough to stop, Elliot took a few hobbled steps back -careful of the foot- and surveyed his work. In front of him was a huge amount of writing, with lines snaking all over the place, connecting little bundles of information together. It looked messy, but good. He could definitely work with it. He could reference back to it while he was telling the story, in case he missed something, or forgot how a character reacted at certain times. It would help.

He moved to the opposite wall to start summarizing the main events of the story, when he realized how dark it was getting. Dark meant sleep, always had been. Elliot grimaced. Avian were day creatures, so they always bundled up in their nests at night and waited till daybreak. Elliot had always hated that he had only a set number of hours to do anything, and now in winter it was even worse. The sun didn't come up as early, and it went down sooner. It wasn't fair. He had lots of energy, and wanted to keep going, but it was night, and he had to concede to sleep.

So instead of starting his summary, Elliot stepped away from the project all together. He surveyed the cave, where there was still a little light, and noticed that Leo was not there at all. The mer had a habit of sneaking in while Elliot wasn't paying attention, and he'd sort of hoped that had been the case. But there was neither hide nor hair of Leo, and Elliot sighed, thinking that maybe the mer wasn't going to come back. Now that he was working on this, Elliot wanted him to come back, so that he could explain what he was doing, and how exciting the whole thing was, but without any Leo to listen, it was sort of a moot point. In fact, if the mer didn't come back at all, this was an entirely useless endeavor.

Elliot didn't like the sound of that at all. He had to keep up his end of the deal, and he wasn't going to be able to if Leo didn't come back at all. But what if he came back while Elliot was asleep? That was no good either. It was in this vein of thinking, that Elliot made the -likely foolish- decision, to wait for the mer. He set himself up in a corner of the cave, that gave him a perfect view of the cave's entrance, and waited. Elliot told himself he wouldn't sleep until the mer came back, but as it got darker it became harder to keep himself awake, and he got exceedingly bored just sitting around. He regretted leaving the music box on the other side of the room, because it was far too dark for him to find it now, and with the cave so cluttered, he'd probably hurt himself trying.

At some point, he must have nodded off, because one minute he was waiting, and the next he was awoken by a soft splashing sound. He opened his eyes, but couldn't see much. What little light there was, came from the small opening of water, which reflected small flecks of stars. That in and of itself was interesting, Elliot often didn't stay up late enough to see many stars, but it provided very little light, and he couldn't make much out other than a ripple on the water. He thought that it probably hadn't been anything, and drifted back to sleep.

-\|/-


	13. Chapter 13

Elliot woke with the sun, which was all together a good sign. What he could assume was for the past few days, Elliot had simply been waking at random times. Waking with the sunrise meant he was slowly getting back into his regular schedule, and that was over all, a good sign. Elliot did better when there was a schedule and order to things. Formality and ritual were important, and they helped stabilize his moods and emotions.

When Elliot looked around the cave, he found that he was alone. Sullenly, he realized that Leo probably hadn't come back at all. It was hard to tell if anything had been disturbed, since the cave was already messy and cluttered, but it didn't seem like it. That was when he shifted, and bumped against something. He looked down to see the little music box right next to him. Elliot screwed his face up in confusion. He had been sure he'd left it on the other side of the cave unintentionally, so to see it right next to him was indeed odd. He could have just been mistaken, and it had been there the whole night, but Elliot thought that perhaps Leo had come back, and placed it over next to him. Why Leo would do such a thing, Elliot couldn't decide on. But of the two options, the one with the mer actually having come back was a more pleasant one, so that's what he decided on believing.

Since it was right there, Elliot reached down for the delicate little music box. He gave it a little smile, turned it over, and wound it up, before setting it down on the cave floor, and opening it's lid. The song chimed out, soothing and sad at the same time, and Elliot found himself humming to it, and tapping his fingers in rhythm. He couldn't help but just sit there, letting the song play out, till it needed to be rewound again. Once it was done, he clicked shut the box, and went about things as he usually would. Or, at least as much as he could.

As his first order of business, Elliot stretched. It was a good way of starting the morning, and even after the fall he'd still taken pleasure in it. Whereas before he would have stretched out his wings the most, now it was his legs and his arms, with the wings coming last. It was a good way of getting himself ready for the day, though he'd fallen out of the habit during the winter. In the nest, it had just been easier to roll over, and read his book instead of moving around and getting out of the bundle of blankets that kept him warm. But for a second -or third?- day, the cave was warm enough that he didn't feel the need to just curl up, and that was encouraging. Elliot had found that the cold sapped any energy he had, and made him just want to be entirely useless. The cave itself wasn't warm, but it wasn't as cold as he'd grown accustomed to, so he found it quite comfortable, and it inspired him to want to do things.

After his stretches -which always left him feeling energized and ready for the day- Elliot took a seat by the water's edge. Surprisingly, the water was much lower than it had been the last time he checked, and Elliot found the whole thing quite confusing. Infact, he could barely reach down and touch it, whereas before he would have been able to stick his whole arm in. Then it occurred to him, that it was likely that the tide was out, or on its way out, and that certainly made a decent amount of sense. He wondered if that had anything to do with when Leo would show up or not, but dismissed the thought.

Instead of thinking about it, he started his first preening of the day. The first one of the day was always the most important, it was really the only way for an avian to start the day, because who could fly with untended wings. And with the ready supply of water, Elliot intended to do a very thorough job. Sure he'd preened the day before, but he'd been feverish then, and his whole schedule had been off whack. Today was a fresh start, and he had every intention of making the best of it, his wings were just one of the ways he was going to do that.

He spent a good two hours on them, going over them once with the water to clean them, and a second without water, because the water level had lowered to well below where he could reach by that point, so the second time was simply to double check his work. It wasn't like he had much else to do, so he figured he could take the time to get them in tip top shape.

When Elliot was sufficiently happy with his wings, he hobbled up, and moved over to his character wall. He looked over it, refreshing himself on what he'd written down yesterday, and grabbing the white stone -which was getting smaller and smaller- to write out more notes that he hadn't been able to remember the night before. When next he took a step back, and looked at everything there, Elliot couldn't help but beam at his work. It looked cluttered, and messy, but good. He could work with this. He'd woken with some doubts of the quality of the previous day's work, but looking at it right then, he was sure he'd done a very good job of it.

Satisfied with it, Elliot then turned to the other side of the cave, to the wall that was still barren. This wall would hold summaries of the actual story events, a simple way of remembering the important plot points in order, and a way to reference things so that he would be able to remember at a glance, what was important to mention in each part of the story. So without any preamble, Elliot got straight to it, writing down what he could remember. The order events had happened in, placing which characters were where at certain times, the major plot points, and keeping in mind what would happen later on, so that he could remember to add important details. He got engrossed in the project before he'd even realized it, and was only stirred from his work when he heard a small splash behind him.

At the sound, Elliot turned around, to see the mer hoisting himself out of the water, and with the water level now much, much lower, that was a very impressive feat. Even still, the mer's body was sopping wet, and water driped off of him in droves. As Elliot watched Leo, he found that he didn't know what he was suppose to say. The mer had just left the day before when they'd argued, and was only now returning. Elliot really didn't know what to make of it, or how he should react, so instead, he decided to stay quiet. He turned back to his work, and continued to scribble out his plot points.

He expected Leo to say something. Probably something obnoxious that he wouldn't like, but something all the same, and when the mer stayed silent, Elliot grew increasingly suspicious. He finished his train of thought on the wall, and turned his head slightly to look towards the mer. What he saw, was something he hadn't expected. Leo was looking, almost transfixed, at the wall where Elliot had put all of his character information. He had the distinctive inclination to reprimand the mer for peaking, and spoiling things, but he reminded himself that Leo could not read, and that likely all of the words on the wall were simply markings to him. So, in the end, Elliot decided that it was fine for Leo to gawk at it, because he wasn't spoiling anything. With that realization in check, Elliot went back to work on the story wall.

Five sentences later, Leo finally spoke, and when he did, Elliot couldn't quite tell if it was irritated, or wonderstruck. "What did you do to the wall?" Whatever emotional attachments the statement had, Elliot did detect the hesitation within the question.

To be polite, he turned his head so that he was looking at the mer while they were talking, but he didn't turn all the way around either. He sort of expected Leo to just leave again, or to be quiet after his question was answered, and that sort of made sense. It wasn't like they had much to talk about, and when they did talk, it seemed to always end in arguments, something Elliot was trying to work on. "The book. The one you burned. I wrote out all of the characters on that wall, so that I can reference it." He motioned to the wall he was working on. "And the story is going here. When I'm finished, I'll start telling it to you."

Elliot looked at his story wall. It wasn't even close to completion yet, but he rationalized that there would be plenty of daylight hours to finish, or so he hoped. He then turned his head back to the mer, who was looking at him, his expression unreadable. "It won't be like if I'm reading it, but I remember the book well enough to tell it to you. These will help me remember things, so that I don't mess up." Elliot tried to smile at the exchange, but found it difficult with Leo just looking at him like he'd grown two heads. Feeling embarrassment start to bubble in his gut, Elliot scrunched up his face, and gave Leo an irritated look. "What?"

The mer seemed to think about the question, before looking back at the character wall, then back at the story wall that Elliot was working on. "You mean, all of this, was in that little book?" The mer seemed incredulous, though there was a hint of amazement to his voice as well.

Elliot's answer was to nod, and turn properly towards the mer. "More, actually. I probably won't remember everything, but I'll try." He saw the mer cock his head in confusion. "I mean, I still want to make the deal. I read to you, and you bring me food. So you don't go getting any ideas about me being a pet."

The look Elliot got was that sickly sweet smirk, and he knew something obnoxious was coming. "You are pretty useless. It's endearing that you're trying to find something to do."

It was true, but that didn't stop Elliot's blood from boiling at the statement. "I am not useless! No living thing is useless you egotistical fi-"

The mer cut him off abruptly, though it was more of a matter of fact statement than anything mean. "My name is Leo. Don't call me fish."

Elliot huffed at being interrupted, but redoubled his efforts. "Even those fish you eat aren't useless! Don't you dare-"

"Of course they aren't. I eat them, and in exchange, they are delicious." Leo hummed at that, before turning his attention back to Elliot, with a playful smile on his face. Elliot knew that meant trouble. "Are you suggesting I eat you?"

The mer was teasing, Elliot could see it all over him, from his uneven posture, to the playful smile on his face, but the avian could hardly find that even remotely amusing. Eating jokes were not funny. "Don't joke about that. It isn't funny." He'd tried to state it as severely as he could, but the more Elliot thought on it, all he could think of was losing his three brothers to a predators teeth, and he couldn't help the raw anger that seeped into the statement. "If you're going to kill me, then just do it. Don't sit there and play house with me first. I'd rather die than be just an amusing diversion for you."

There'd never been any sense in his anger, there wasn't a damn thing he could do about losing his brothers, but he'd always wanted to be the person who avenged them, and he couldn't. Even if he had his wings, it didn't matter. The predator had to eat, and his brothers had been foolish. That was simply how the world worked, and try as he could, Elliot had never been able to simply accepted it. He knew he was the weird one for not simply getting over it, life went on with or without him, and his fall had been directly linked to his own carelessness. Indirectly, his anger at the whole situation had caused him his flight, and even still, he could not get past it. The feelings of anger and helplessness came back at even the mention of something similar, and he hated that too.

Elliot didn't want to look at the mer after that, so he turned his back to him, and started writing on his wall again. It was something to focus his energy on, and right at that moment, he needed that. He focused on the writing, because he needed focus to stay away from those tumultuous emotions.

Elliot didn't notice Leo approach until cold hands laid themselves on top of his head, and the mer laid his head on those hands. Elliot stopped his writing, and tried to look up, but all he could see was a mess of black hair, and bluish flesh. Leo seemed to settle behind him. "I'm not going to eat you. Not ever." Elliot could feel Leo shifting behind him, and despite the closeness of it, or how cold Leo was, the statement set him at ease more than he would have thought. "And, I'm going to try and not hurt you. I think, sometimes, I probably will. You have to tell me when I do, and I won't do it again." Leo fell into silence then, but Elliot was sure he had more to say, was positive that he wasn't done. So Elliot waited. In the silence, Leo had taken to curling a finger around in Elliot's hair, and Elliot was surprised to find it wasn't an entirely unpleasant sensation. "So stop looking at me like I'm a monster."

-\|/-

Again, weird day tomorrow. You get an earlier chapter, and I can now go to bed.

**To Shadow'sAria: **Thank you for the lovely review! I'm so happy to hear you're enjoying the fic! Now, as for your question. First let me put the obligatory disclaimer; I certainly am no expert, and the extent of my research for this fic was looking up general information on birds, and pulling on my years old knowledge of nature shows. Birds are specifically made for flight, every part of their body is for this express purpose, and one of the fundamental realities of that is that their bones are hollow, small and very thin. This is all to minimize their overall weight, as are many other attributes of birds. When working with injured birds that are trying to be rehabilitated to go back into the wild, an injury to one of the bird's wings has a chance of healing, but very well might never, this is not uncommon because the bones of the wing are so delicate. It really is just a tossup if wings will heal after being broken, and that is under optimal conditions, with well educated care of modern medicine and its application for animals. In this story, knowledge of medicine is relativly primitive, and thus, when Elliot's wings were injured, no one would really even know HOW to best care for him. His wings certainly weren't put in casts. For the setting, Elliot is actually very, very lucky to be alive, and is only alive because of the continued support of his family, who is well established, and has enough clout within their area to support him. I hope I answered your question to satisfaction, and I apologize, this is likely more information than you wanted. Don't believe those one line author notes, I'm really a blabber mouth...


	14. Chapter 14

That day Leo brought back strange food that Elliot had never seen before, it looked like no fish Elliot had ever seen, with many long strands of flesh, that wrapped around him as he held it. Leo insisted that he try it, to which the avian did. Surprisingly, the mer was right. The strange thing was delicious, and Elliot ate all of it without another comment. It was slimy going down, not like a lot of meat he'd had before, but it was delicious, so Elliot didn't care.

They listened to the music box after that, Leo all but forcing Elliot to wind it up, stating that his hands were too big, and that if he did it, the thing would probably break. It occurred to Elliot at that point, that the mer had probably never heard the music box before that, and that was a nice thought. Leo's thorough inspection of the little thing when it started playing, seemed to confirm his theory. They listened to it several times, talking about what the song sounded like to both of them, and Leo related how he'd found it. He'd been brought to it by the music, almost spellbound by it. Though after he'd found it, he'd never figured out how to make it do it again. He'd always suspected the metal wind-up on the back had something to do with it, but was to worried about breaking it to really experiment. In response to the story, Elliot wound up the music box again, and watched Leo glow at the sound it made.

Later, when Elliot had gotten back to his writing, Leo returned with more normal looking fish, of which Elliot had one before saying something about being over fed, to which Leo teased him, but it wasn't mean, and Elliot found that even though he got a little heated about it, he didn't get angry.

Next on their agendas was water, and this time around, Elliot requested two pots full. The first one, he drank while Leo waited. Then he sent up the pot again for Leo to scavenge some more snow. The second pot, he took a few sips out of, then placed it down, mostly full, on the cave floor for later.

Leo came back to return the rope, but then quickly left. When he did come back, it was starting to get darker, and the oranges of sunset where illuminated on the back of the cave wall, shining through the hole at the top. Perhaps more importantly, Elliot had finished his writing, and was surveying his work when Leo returned. The two of them spent what was left of the evening, with the story. Elliot got it started, making sure to check his notes often, and found that telling it wasn't nearly as hard as he had anticipated. Leo was a good audience, but also an inquisitive one. When something didn't make sense, or Leo had general questions, he'd stop Elliot to ask them. This set off Elliot's rhythm some, and he got a little irritated by it, but he found that the more questions he answered, and the more minor points they argued about, that the more normal it felt to interact with the mer.

Elliot turned in with the sun, but before he did, Leo had him wind-up the music box once more. Drowsy already, Elliot agreed to it, but fell asleep before the song had completed. He remembered hearing some sort of splash before entirely drifting off, but in the morning, it seemed more like a figment of his imagination than anything else.

-\|/-

Short chapter. Next one will be longer.

**To Raq**: Thank you so much for your continued support! I'm glad they still feel in character, it's something I'm trying hard to maintain! And your English is quite good, don't worry~


	15. Chapter 15

The next several weeks passed in relatively the same fashion. Leo brought food and retrieved water, and spent large amounts of time outside of the cave, mostly when the tide was out, which made the water level in the little cavern leading to the cave go down. With the tide in, that little cavern was a nice little entrance way into the cave, only being slightly under the cave floor, but when the tide was out, the cavern became a steep, treacherous climb for the mer, with large jagged rocks along the edges that he could easily avoid when the cavern was flooded.

It was a strange situation that Elliot found himself in, and one he went between liking and disliking on an hour by hour basis. The cave was comparatively warm, so it wasn't an unpleasant place to live, but it was small and cramped, and devoid of a decent view of the sky, something he only realized he needed once it was gone. He had enough room to move around, but he was used to an entirely open living space. Not to mention that living on solid ground was entirely unnerving. He'd spent the whole of his life living in the nest, which swayed in violent storms, and always had a feeling of height and weightlessness to it. Solid ground had always meant looming danger, and made him cautions, and though he was likely very safe in the cave, it was difficult to distance himself from the instincts he'd learned over the years. The cave didn't move, and there was a definite ceiling he couldn't get out of. Even when the sun came out, all he could do was follow it along the cave floor, and that was depressing in and of itself. The cave was in stark contrast to his nest, and some days he loved it, and some days he hated it.

He didn't like that Leo left so often. Elliot never brought it up, but he wanted the mer to be around more. They usually just harmlessly bickered, or Leo would tease him, but it was much better than sitting alone with nothing to do in the dark, damp, cave. It was somehow more lonely than his nest had ever been. He surmised that it was due to the memories he had of the nest, how for every space in it, he had a fond memory that both tugged at his heartstrings, and brought a smile to his face. It could also be the lack of books too, which was a far simpler and less mushy answer. The cave was still just an empty space to him in a lot of ways, and alone, it was enough to suffocate him. He understood that it was a pain to climb back up and down the cavern leading to the cave when the tide was out, but that didn't stop him from wanting Leo around more often, if for nothing else than company. One of the upsides, was that he could be as loud as he wanted, so he could sing and yell at anything, and there would be no repercussions.

He worked on songs a great deal once his voice had stopped being a raspy mess, but that got tiring after a while as well. He limited himself to working on songs for about two hours a day, so that he wouldn't grow to tired of it, and that seemed to work out well enough, though it left him plenty of time to be bored.

The more time passed, the fonder Elliot grew of that music box. He played it often, and found it to be soothing for any occasion. He even sang with it if he was feeling particularly crummy. Eventually, he realized that whenever he played the music box, Leo would come to check up on him, either to just stop in to chat, or to jut pop his head up out of the water quietly, then sink back into the water and be gone again. It was sort of nice to think that Elliot could summon Leo at an given moment just by playing the music box, but the novelty of it wore off faster than anticipated, and he decided to only use it when he was really desperate.

In the evenings, Leo always came before the sun set, when the water was over half risen, and he only had to climb just a bit. And when he came, Elliot would tell the story from where they'd last left off. Every night, Leo had more questions; before, after, and during the story. The more questions he got, the more Elliot realized that this whole discussion thing was very enjoyable. He rationalized that he was desperately lonely, and that their nightly discussions was the most interaction he had all day, so it only stood to reason that he was very fond of their debates. It was probably true, but Elliot dismissed it. Discussing was nice, in and of itself, without the emotional baggage attached to it; though, admit-ably, they got through very little of the actual story every night because of it.

But the lack of things to do during the day grated on him. His first order of business had been to repair his abused boot, but that had taken less than a day. They weren't perfect, but they worked and fit as well as they ever had. He was satisfied with his work, but once again had nothing to do.

Next came organizing the cave into something that resembled order, and not just ratty piles of junk. His first attempt was to organize everything by color, but as he worked on it, it became very apparent that he and Leo had very different ideas of what colors were different. Despite the fact that Leo didn't do any organizing, he'd show up at the cave, and ask why the grays were with the blues, to which Elliot would swear up and down that all of the items in that pile were grey, and to which Leo would adamantly deny. Apparently, Elliot couldn't tell that some grays, where actually blue. And for whatever reason, Leo couldn't realize that orange was even a color; he had problems with yellows, browns, some reds, and definitely couldn't tell the difference between diverse shades of green. Elliot had had color arguments with his siblings in the past -though as with most of his relationships, he tended to argue almost any point- but he'd never heard about that sort of variation.

So in the end, after much griping, they both decided -mostly Leo insisted and Elliot grudgingly agreed- not to organize the junk in the cave by color. Instead, they agreed that it should be organized by function. Which was quite easy, since about 90% of the things in there were entirely useless as far as Elliot could tell. But that got Leo unhappy too, because his apparently vast knowledge of human junk, meant that he knew what most of those useless things were for, and was highly displeased at Elliot's dismissal of them. They argued a great deal about that as well, but in the end, Leo spent a lot more time in the cave, explaining what things were, and how humans used them. Then they'd have a long discussion trying to figure out where those things belonged in their strange little organizing system.

Elliot found that even if he knew what something was used for, it was a damn good excuse to play the music box so that Leo would come back and explain it a second, third, or even fifth time. If Leo had leeway to tease him so often, it only seemed fair that Elliot was given the same privilege, even though he had to play dumb about it. Often, he found himself deliberately leaving things in the wrong pile, knowing that Leo would notice, and that it would start an argument. For someone who wasn't doing any of the organizing, Leo certainly wanted it done right.

The organizing did keep Elliot busy, which was nice. And he did waste a lot of time marveling at the sheer amount of human tools in the cave, trying them out, and memorizing what Leo had. Leo often brought more things too, which the cave didn't need, but were still interesting. Elliot didn't make too much of a fuss about it. It wasn't a horrible situation he found himself in, and it slowly grew into a more normal thing the longer he stayed, but Elliot did tire of it at times. It was hard to turn his life on its head entirely, and not lament the loss of his former lifestyle. It seemed to inspire him to preen even more obsessively than when his wings had actually worked, going at them almost five times a day, and on harder days, even more. His wing grew glossy and beautiful again, likely from the upkeep, and the constant supply of food, but there was something inherently sad about that, something that made his bones ache and he actively worked not to think about. It was the worst place in the world, and he hated it.

-\|/-


	16. Chapter 16

The dreams had first started after his fall. And more than anything, they'd felt like a memory, a reliving of falling, crashing, and feeling dead. He'd wake in the nest, but he'd know he was shattered on the forest floor, and was so terrified that he simply couldn't move, and no force of will, or reminder that he was alive and well could make him move. Even in waking, he was stuck watching the world around him as he slowly died, unable to do anything. He always woke unsure if he would ever be able to move again, and that was horrifying. For hours he'd just lay there, unable to do anything. Sometimes he'd come out of it on his own, but sometimes he'd be stuck there till morning, when Vanessa found him, eyes leaking tears and bloodshot, because he couldn't even blink.

The dreams had come at his lowest point, back when he'd just laid in the nest, unwilling to get up and do anything. He'd been despondent, going from being entirely apathetic, to violently angry with himself, in hardly any time at all. The anger exhausted him, and led to the apathy, which made him feel numb and useless. The anger was something, so as time passed, Elliot focused on it as much as he could. Even if it made him volatile, it gave him something to work with, something to get him up during the day. It had helped, even though he had no idea how Vanessa handled him. Slowly, he'd eased into some sort of a schedule that was easy to follow once made, and that had helped too. Then he'd started reading again, sinking himself into books and drowning in fiction, and the dreams had slowly become fewer, and less severe when they did happen. He no longer woke, unable to move and with that most frightening aspect of the dreams gone, his brain could more rationally consider that the dream was simply that. A horrifying dream, but a dream none the less.

Elliot had been happy to be rid of them.

Then, about the sixth week in the cave, the dreams came back with a vengeance.

Similar to the dreams before, they'd started with falling, and the primal fear that came with it. But this time, he didn't shatter against the forest floor. Instead, he fell into a gaping mouth, with rows and rows of teeth, and as he fell in, he saw that jaw clamp shut above him. He landed in a mirror image of the cave, but it wasn't the cave, it was the stomach of the great monster that had swallowed him whole. The cave's walls were damp and hard against his hands, the warmth that made the cave so comfortable was just the heat the monster's body generated, and the great rumbling of the sea was the monsters moans reverberating throughout its body. Elliot was trapped, forever, and the longer he was trapped, the more he realized that his flesh had slowly started melting off of his bones, falling off of him in disgusting fleshy clumps onto the cave floor. All the while, the monster's moans taunted him, filling him up and overpowering his screams.

Elliot woke, and screamed as loud as he could in anger, fear, and desperation, then rose to his feet to prove that he could. He had to get out, he could still feel his flesh rotting and falling off of him. He needed out, desperately, and he scratched at the cave walls until his nails came off, he pounded until he couldn't feel his hands any more, and he threw himself against the stone of the cave, tirelessly. Eventually, he just gave up and slumped down in exhaustion, and it was only in that resigned calm, that Elliot reminded himself that he was alive, and well, and not rotting in the belly of some giant monster. Even still, he could feel the flesh falling off of him.

He didn't sleep the rest of that night, just laid there in a mess of his own blood, convincing himself that everything was okay, when nothing was okay. The dreams were back.

-\|/-

Small chapter; next one will be longer. We have four chapters more, and then we're done.


	17. Chapter 17

Elliot woke the next day, and remembered everything, vividly. The dream was dramatic and vibrant in his head, and Elliot found that he just wanted to forget it. He wanted to sink back into darkness, to close his eyes and never remember that horrid dream ever again. And he remembered what had happened after it too; throwing himself relentlessly against the cave wall, convinced it was something hideous and horrifying, when it simply was not.

What he did not remember, was falling asleep, or passing out, but since he had woken, it seemed like a logical conclusion that at some point it had just happened. Awareness had slipped out of his grasp at some point. It made a great deal of sense; even now, he was exhausted. As he was, Elliot felt ill, light headed, queasy, but also there was a great restlessness eating him alive, that made sitting still seem intolerable for even a second more. He tried to raise to his feet but that was quite difficult, and he didn't make it, before fumbling back down to the cave's floor. The world spun when he moved, and that made moving even harder to handle than the lightheadedness. He felt like he was going to faint.

His stubbornness forced him to attempt getting up once more, before a cold pair of hand thumped down on his shoulders, and gently eased him back down onto the cave floor.

It struck Elliot that he hadn't even realized that the mer had been there at all. Shocked at entirely missing the much larger creature, Elliot simply stared in confusion.

Leo, in response, only frowned, before he set about rearranging Elliot. It struck him how Leo was always mindful of his wings, but now he also paid attention to his aching shoulders, his still numb hands, and his scraped arms. It was only as he thought of all the pain, and made that a focal point, that things sort of came together. He was in the cave, as he had been for the last six weeks. He hurt a great deal, but as he noticed that, he also noticed that he was heavily bandaged in the cloth that he'd once used to cover his dark wings. Now, the makeshift bandage cloth was covered in dark splotches of blood.

And it was midday, Leo was never around the cave at midday. Leo spent most of the day, when the tide was low, out of the cave entirely, because it was a chore to climb back up the tunnel that led into the cave without the water making it easier on him. Leo did not stay then, but there he was, scowling and trying to tend to Elliot, likely as best as he'd ever known how. In other circumstances, Elliot would have felt spoiled, or even touched at the mer's concern, but all he wanted at that point, was to roll over and die. Preferably fast. He felt positively atrocious, but Leo's cold hands on his shoulders, fingers twirling through his hair, put Elliot at some kind of ease. Even if he just wanted to curl up in a ball and forget everything, the gesture was still comforting, in its own, strange way.

But the thought of the dream made him desperate. If he could manage it, Elliot would refuse sleep for the rest of his life to avoid that dream. That horrible, debilitating dream, that had come back, after months and months of silence. It had taken months to get rid of, and now it was back again to haunt him, but worse than it had been before. True, he'd been able to move this time, but he had still been firmly held in his mind's deception, convinced he was being eaten alive, and that he had to get out of the cave at any cost. To the point that his hands and arms were now entirely useless. He wondered if he'd broken anything in the struggle, and wanted to crawl into a hole even more.

Being stuck immobile had been horrifying in its own way, but this was equally frightening. It was the difference between being unable to struggle, and being able to struggle in vain: both led to the same inevitable pit of hopelessness that he couldn't fly out of.

But suddenly, Leo was talking, and Elliot hadn't caught a single word. His brain seemed to be processing everything slower than it would have normally, and even going at such a slow speed, Elliot found himself tiring. His eye lids refused to stay still for even ten seconds. They'd settle, droop, and when they got too far down, he'd force them back up, and then they'd droop again, and the process would begin anew. He never wanted to sleep again, he'd become an owl, and look at things in weird directions and stay up all night. Somehow, it seemed like a logical thought in his mind.

He felt the cold hands on his shoulders again, easing him lower onto the cave floor, and he knew he didn't want that. Elliot flat out refused to go back to sleep, not when that dream was waiting for him. He tried grabbing onto Leo's arms, and with them wrapped up tightly, he couldn't even do that. Instead, he placed his bound hands on Leo's chest, tried to push the much larger creature off. He didn't need the mer forcing him, or even telling him what to do. He was a rational, sane creature with his own wants, needs and expectations. And he'd be damned if Leo was going to keep treating him like some invalid. But the force behind his push didn't do anything, the mer had always been too big for Elliot to really attempt anything, but the action did seem to give Leo pause.

The mer gave him a long, hard look, in which Elliot could see the hint of purple under that unruly mop of hair. Elliot thought he'd gotten better at reading Leo's expressions in the past weeks, but as he sat there, being looked at, and looking back, Elliot realized he didn't know anything. He was cavemates with a stranger, someone who hadn't told him anything about himself. Every time he'd asked, Leo had simply diverted the conversation with a light jab or left all together. Elliot didn't know this person, Leo was no better than a strange creature, that had, for no discernable reason, decided to feed him, and lock him up. And when that came up, there were excuses, denials, and dismissals.

For all Elliot knew, the dream's warning of danger was not as far off has he'd initially thought, and that was horrifying.

-\|/-


	18. Chapter 18

Leo stayed with him for the rest of the day, but it seemed to be to the mer's detriment. Leo dried out quickly, which was disturbingly easy to spot: he grew much paler, almost to a normal color. It was strange to see, sine Elliot was so used to the blue. The second sign was his gills, which would start to flap, in almost a panicked way, and Elliot wondered what that felt like, if it was at all similar to when he was out of breath. The motion reminded Elliot of young, restless wings, to jittery and inexperienced to be useful yet, and that was depressing in and of itself. When it got too bad, the mer would amble over to the hole, where the water had drained from low tide, and lower down a pot attached to a rope. He'd fill up the pot and dump jug after jug on top of himself, and that seemed to help. His pallor returned to its normal shade of skin tone blue, and the gills would stop their hurried twitching. Then Leo would amble back to where he'd been sitting before, and once he got there he would angle his eye squarely on Elliot, as he had all day.

The unrelenting stair was unsettling in and of itself, and Leo hadn't taken kindly when Elliot had told him, in no uncertain terms, that he was not going to sleep. Leo had huffed in irritation, and made to leave, before thinking better of it, and taking a spot on the cave wall.

The two of them had stayed in relative silence; Elliot's mind had been occupied, with pain, and dreams and why, exactly, he was having this obviously debilitating conflict within himself. And then there was Leo, who sat there quietly, twirling a finger in his hair, fiddling with little human things every now and then, and always keeping his eyes on Elliot. He couldn't see those purple eyes under Leo's mass of hair, but he could feel them on him, and it was unnerving, to say the least.

Elliot tried to rationalize that Leo was just concerned, obviously concerned, and likely had no idea what had transpired. Perhaps he kept looking at Elliot, expecting him to explain himself, but Elliot had absolutely no intention of giving an explanation as to what had happened. Leo hadn't really asked either, but his gaze was all Elliot needed to know that the mer wanted to know, and that his patience was not going to last if Elliot continued to remain silent.

Even if Elliot had wanted to talk about it, that would have been difficult, but shame and anger kept his mouth firmly shut. It wasn't something he could just say, and it didn't help that he hadn't worked everything out himself.

What he did know, without a doubt, was that he did need to leave the cave. He didn't care if he froze to death outside, or if something out there ate him, or if he starved to death; Elliot needed out. And it was going to have to happen sometime soon. No matter how he looked at it, even from the angles where he was being cared for, he was trapped. Like one of those little birds humans put in cages, and took them down into the earth. Those birds always came back up dead, and he couldn't fathom the thought of never seeing the sky again, or never bathing in sunlight. Such an outcome simply wasn't acceptable, and that only became more apparent as the two of them sat in strained silence.

But to his surprise, Elliot had discovered liked Leo. He liked Leo, a lot, and that had stopped him from doing anything before. Leo had just sort of taken him in, and provided everything that Elliot could need, and he'd never wanted to be such an ungrateful wretch. That hesitation had kept him from ever addressing the issue before, and it was hard to let that feeling go entirely. There was a part of him that wanted to ignore that nagging, unappreciative side of him that simply could not accept being caged, but with the dream in mind, that was entirely impossible. He'd put it off for too long already, had become unnervingly complacent at letting the mer make choices for him. It had to stop.

But working up the nerve to speak was difficult. He didn't want to be angry, he didn't want to push Leo away, even though in a very physical sense, that was exactly what he was doing. It was delicate, and Elliot had never been good at delicate, despite what the mer seemed to think. He raged, and got mad, he didn't have calm, rational, convincing, conversations, and that's what this needed to be.

He'd been running around in circles in his head, trying to find what exactly he should say, and how to say it, when Leo saved him the trouble. "You don't want to be here." Elliot almost hadn't caught it, and when he did, he couldn't rationalize what it had meant.

He looked over at Leo, and simply stared in confusion, his mouth probably slack jawed as well. "What?" It was all he could think to say. Somehow, what Leo said hadn't made any sense, and it made even less sense that it had been Leo saying it. His brain had been so wrapped up in starting the conversation himself, that Elliot hadn't even assumed it was something the mer had ever thought of.

"I said, you don't want to be here." The mer's face stayed impassive, his head turned to face a different direction, but Elliot could feel those eyes still on him, imploring him to say something, but he simply couldn't. The avian was entirely dumbstruck. When it became apparent that Elliot was not going to speak, the mer sighed in exasperation, and rolled his head to the side. "It's obvious. You sing during the day when I'm gone, hoping that one of your family will find you. You chase the sunlight across the cave floor, because you feel like you need more of it. You stopped playing the music box, even though you know I'll come when you play it, and now you've hurt yourself trying to get out." Leo wasn't looking at him then, somewhere during that statement, his gaze had shifted to something in the opposite direction.

The mer sighed again, but this time, it sounded wretched, and Elliot couldn't help the guilt that bubbled in his gut. "I get it. You've wanted out for a while, but you're afraid of me. You don't know what I'll do when you ask, or when you tell me, and that's kept you here." The mer was fiddling with his hair, making a point of looking away. "It's obvious."

There were a lot of things Elliot probably should have said, things swirling around in his head that needed to get out, but he didn't give voice to any of them. His first instinct was to deny, to be angry, but some of Leo's assumptions had been right. He did want out of the cave, desperately so, but not for the reasons the mer seemed to think. He couldn't just spout out everything he was feeling, because it was a jumbled mess of things. He needed to organize it somehow, if it was going to make any sense. It hardly made sense to himself as it was, so that would take time. He probably sat there a long time in silence, before he finally decided on what he was going to say, and even then, he had to work to make it even, and convincing. "I'm not afraid of you." It was true, his initial concerns about the mer had long dissipated, but in his current mental state, it was difficult to make the statement convincing.

Leo frowned, his mouth an uneven line, and obviously pained. "You are-"

"I said I'm not!" And this time, Elliot couldn't keep the bite out of his voice, and he couldn't stop the words that came flooding out of him. "You play with your hair when you're nervous. You have a beautiful singing voice, but you're too shy to let me hear it, so you only do it at night when you think I'm sleeping. You're curious about everything, you ask questions all the time, and get very engaged in what you want to know. One day, I'm gonna teach you how to read, and you're going to answer every question you ever had on your own, cause there are so many books you're going to read, and so many things you're going to learn. And when you do, you're going to annoy me with random facts about things I don't care about, but I'm gonna like that anyway, because it'll be you doing it, and you'll make both of us smarter. You tease me because you like to see me riled up, but you've learned where to draw the line on that teasing too. You love that dumb music box, you should see the smile on your face when I wind it up for you. You climb up on top of that cave every day to get me water, you bring back loads of fish for me to eat, and when I get hurt, you wrap up my wounds. How-" Elliot paused there, but only for a second. If he let himself dwelt on it too much, he'd get embarrassed, and wouldn't be able to continue. So instead, he simply slowed, and tried to take the bite out of his words. "How could I be afraid of someone like that. Of you."

Leo gulped, and his gills seemed to start twitching. The mer wasn't looking at Elliot when he spoke next. "Because I'm twice your siz-"

Elliot roared in irritation, promptly cutting off the mer. "Why does that matter so much to you!? We're different, but why is that such a bad thing?"

Leo turned on him then, what Elliot could see of those purples eyes blazing behind his dark hair. "Cause something out there is going to kill you one day! You're small, and you can't fly. You're useless, and hopeless and you're too pigheaded to know it! When we met you were starving to death, your wings were unkempt, you were gaunt, and you didn't even know how to catch fish. You were completely hopeless, and you expect me to help you leave this cave, where you're safe, so that something can make an easy meal out of you!?"

"Yes!" He couldn't stop himself, with the energy coursing through the room, through both of them, it was impossible for Elliot to let himself handle this calmly. "Yes I do! Because that's my choice. I get to decide that, you don't! It's not your responsibility to keep me alive. Just because I'm smaller than you, doesn't mean you get to decide that staying here is better for me!"

Leo's gills flared, and his skin paled, but it was obvious his temper was raging. Elliot could almost hear those sharp pointy teeth grinding in the mer's mouth. "It is better for you! Nothing is going to eat you here, nothing is going to kill you, and you aren't going to freeze out there." Leo paused, obviously needing water. His hands had been fisted before, but they moved to the cave's floor to steady himself. His gills were flapping more panicked than before, but he kept on speaking none the less. "You can't use your wings anyway, so why does it matter?"

All Elliot had to do was look at the mer to know his answer, how he was starting to take on a regular skin tone, how his gills kept protesting, and how his arms had to work at keeping him upright, instead of just flopping over. "You need that water to live, don't you?" He knew the answer without having to ask the question; just by looking at Leo, it was horribly obvious. Really, they weren't so different. "You can't be away from it for too long, or you'll dry out. It's the same with me, I need out."

"It's different!" Leo's denial came out harsh, but it was lacking the bite of their previous exchanges, he needed that water, and it showed. "I'll die if I dry out-"

"So will I!" The mer looked pitiful, he was having a hard time even sitting there. Without any prompting, Elliot got up, struggling at the dizziness that came with it, and made his way to the cave's exit. He could feel Leo's eyes on him as he lowered the pot, filled it up, and ambled over to Leo. The whole process was only strained by how his hands were wrapped, and he wondered how useless, how smashed up they would look if the bandages were removed.

Unceremoniously, he dumped the jar of water on the mer, and instantly Leo looked better, his frame laxed, and he soaked in the water. His hair had even started to dry, and with the added water, it clumped and clung to his head and shoulders, like it normally did. He looked happier. "You don't get it, but this is the same. If you keep me here, I'll die."

Leo frowned, but once Elliot had spoken, his gaze went to the ground and stayed there. Elliot could see sharp teeth working on the mer's lower lip. "You're safe here." When it came out, the statement sounded dejected. Elliot knew he'd won this argument, and Leo knew it too, even though he didn't want to admit it.

"But I hate it. I hate being trapped, it's driving me crazy." Elliot looked down at his hands, wrapped up so that his fingers were clumped together, and he couldn't even see them. His hands were likely a mess below the bloody, torn sheets wrapped around them. He wondered if they'd ever work the same again, or if he'd ruined those too. "Look at me. I tore up my hand and arms and shoulders, convinced that I could get out if I just tried harder. I couldn't think of anything else. I didn't want to do this, but I couldn't stop it." His whole upper body hurt, his arms and shoulders were a wreck, and his head ached and felt too heavy for his neck to handle. His legs hurt too, but he didn't remember kicking at the cave wall. Perhaps in his frenzied state, he'd done that too without thinking, but of all the things with damage, his legs had taken the least abuse. "I hate being trapped here. I thought that feeling would go away. That's why I didn't say anything, not because I'm afraid of you, or I think you're going to hurt me." Elliot shifted his posture, and looked away. "I didn't want you to hate me for leaving, or get upset, so I thought I could just wait, and see if this feeling went away. But now I know that feeling isn't going away, it's getting worse."

He looked back at the mer, hoping that some of what he said was getting through, but Leo's mouth was an unreadable straight line, and his eyes remained entirely hidden by the clumps of hair in his face. It was unnerving to see him so unresponsive, but Elliot felt he had to keep going. "I appreciate you. You've done a lot for me, and you've tried hard to make this place a home. But I can't stay here."

Both of them stayed silent after that. Elliot found it even harder to look at the mer. He really was a selfish, ungrateful, wretch. He regretted having to say it, but he couldn't regret it now that it was done. It was the truth, this simply couldn't continue.

Elliot was trying to think of other ways to make his argument sound more convincing when Leo decided to speak up. "I didn't intend to keep you here." Elliot looked over at the mer, and saw how strained he looked, with his arms firmly holding one another, and his face downcast. "But then, there were the wolves. I didn't think I cared, until I thought you were going to die, and I'd have to watch." The mer chewed on his lip a bit more, before continuing. "I didn't want to watch you get eaten, and not be able to do anything. So, I left." He sounded ashamed, sad, and upset all at once. Elliot could see that his hands were holding so hard to his arms, that they were making marks on the pale blue flesh. "I've always thought, that if it there was nothing I could do, I should just leave things be. But for some reason I came back, and you were still alive. I was-" the mer paused, but just for a beat, his mouth twisting into a jagged line, before continuing. "relieved, and happy. I felt bad for ever doubting that you would be fine. But I was wrong about that too, you weren't fine."

The mer turned and looked at him, and Elliot could feel those purple eyes drilling holes into him. "You were hurt, almost died. All because I didn't do anything. I let you get hurt, and I left when I should have tried to help you. I really thought you were going to die that night. You were so cold, you weren't breathing right, and you were starting to look blue. I panicked, and I almost left you to die again. I was already out of the cave, I was going to just let you die in here, and dump your body in the morning, but I couldn't. I went back, and I used that book you brought to make a fire. And you got better, you even woke up. I was relieved, and it struck me, that if I had left you, you really would have died. I never thought I had that kind of ability before, to save anything. I've only ever killed things before, or hurt things."

There was a pained smile on Leo's face, and it made Elliot want to do something to get rid of it, because it looked so unsettling on the mer. "But I saved you, and that mattered to me. I didn't want anything to ever hurt you again, because I could make sure it didn't. It was, nice, to have someone to come back to, someone to do things for, and spend time with. I didn't- I don't want that to change." The mer stopped there, and sighed, seemingly without even realizing it. With the sigh, he seemed to deflate. "But, I can't protect you out there, on land. I can't do anything to keep you safe there. Don't you get it? For as long as I live, I can keep you safe right here. Doesn't that matter?"

"It does matter." Elliot answered instinctively, and found that he hadn't been wrong for saying it. "But that doesn't change anything. I can't stay here."

The mer looked crestfallen, from what Elliot could tell. "But why? You're safe, and you just said that you aren't afraid of me. Why can't you just stay?"

Elliot shook his head for emphasis, before settling his eyes confidently on Leo. "For the same reason you need to be in water. You can be away from it for a little while, but not for long. I'm the same way. I need open space like you need the ocean."

Leo was gritting his teeth again, and his gaze had shifted away. "You're insufferable, and cruel. How can you even say that you want to go out there and get yourself killed, and expect me to let you?"

"Because you don't have a choice. If you don't help me, I'll do it on my own." Or die trying, which went unsaid between the two of them.

"If you'll just keep hurting yourself until you get out, then I don't have much of a choice." The statement sounded bitter to Elliot's ears, like it was something Leo was being forced to accept, and Elliot supposed that was probably a very accurate way of looking at it.

He made his way over to the mer, and sat down next to him, leaning over to lay his head on the broad expanse of Leo's shoulder, and thinking how it was strangely comforting now to have the mer so close. "How do you think you would act if you were out of water for too long?"

The mer turned his head away, and seemed to scoff at the question. "You've seen it already."

Elliot shook his head, but only a little "No, not that. Longer. If you could last longer away from the water, what would you do? Wouldn't it be strange? You'd miss it, right?"

The mer didn't even skip a beat. "I could visit your nest, and walk through the forest. I don't think it would be so bad."

"It would be nice. I could show you my books, and we'd dress you up in clothes. It would be nice for a while. But what if you got up in my nest, and then couldn't get down. From my nest, you'd be able to see the ocean, but never reach it. You'd probably be able to hear it with how good your hearing is too. After a while, wouldn't that upset you?"

There was a pause, and Elliot could tell that Leo was thinking over the question very seriously, and for that he was thankful. "I don't know. I'd like to think it wouldn't matter, but I don't know." The mer leaned his head on top of Elliot's and sighed, his dark hair shuddering at the gust of air.

"I didn't know either. That's why I waited so long. That's why I thought it would go away. But it's only gotten worse." Elliot wanted to reach over, and coax Leo's hand away from clinging to his own limbs, but he looked at his wrapped hand, and dismissed the idea as silly. "I can't stay here forever."

"You can't promise me you'll be able come back though. You could get hurt, or even die, and I'd never know. You just won't come back one day. And every day that I wait for you, I'll be thinking in the back of my head, is today the day you don't come back."

Elliot found he didn't have an answer for that. He couldn't deny it, or ease Leo's fears. He was going to die one day, and probably never come back. In all likelihood, the mer would long outlive him. But at the same time, the ocean wasn't a safe place either. It was huge, vast, and violent in its own way, and there were huge monsters that lurked within its depths. He'd always thought Leo was big, but he'd seen whales when he'd migrated in the past, and those were massive. In comparison, Leo was quite small. "You can't promise that you'll be here when I come either. I've never been able to protect you, and I probably never will be able to. It makes me mad, to think that you could get hurt and I'd never be able to do anything about it, but it's not something I can change. Our circumstances aren't so different."

The two of them lulled into silence, but he felt a tug on his hair, and knew that Leo was threading a finger through his hair, which had grown quite a bit in the time he'd been there. It was a good sign. When Leo finally broke the silence, his statement was neither despondent, or angry, instead, it felt mostly blank, with a hint of resignation. "Being reactive instead of proactive isn't exactly a redeeming trait for a predator."

Elliot puffed. "We eat the same things! I don't see how that makes me any less of a predator." Elliot rolled his head, so that he could angle his eyes up at the dark mass of hair leaning on him. He was glad to see a somewhat strained, but playful smile on Leo's face.

"You eat what I bring you, and not much at that. It hardly counts." The mer countered, continuing to play with Elliot's hair.

Elliot gave a glare, and pursed his lips. "It does too count! I eat fish, you eat fish, it's the same!"

Leo seemed to scoff at him, and that playful smile widened. "You, are what is called an omnivore." The mer made an exaggerated poke at Elliot's chest, then laid the same hand on his own chest. "I, am a carnivore, and I hunt for my food." Leo went back to playing with the avian's hair at that, but before Elliot could give voice to the indignation painted across his face, Leo spoke again. "You're more of a scavenger, really. You just eat my leftovers. Basic food chain stuff." The mer shrugged one shoulder for emphasis, likely enjoying how red Elliot knew he was getting.

"Bull shit!" He couldn't help it, Elliot naturally rose to such prompting, and he'd learned to be just as open about his emotions with Leo, as he was capable of being. Besides, this was normal for them. This was good. "I don't just eat your leftovers! You feed me first, so I get first pick of the day!"

Leo raised an eyebrow, and had that irritating smirk on his face, the one that always made Elliot want to punch him. Lovingly, of course. "How do you know I don't eat before I feed you? For all you know, I eat the good stuff before I get here, so I never have to share."

"You do not!" Elliot waved his hands in emphasis, pushing himself from leaning on the mer, and watching as Leo's large, clawed hands fell away from his hair. "You're always coming in here saying 'Look what I found. Try this, it's delicious. Eat more, you're to scrawny.'" He angled Leo an indignant look, daring him to contradict him.

Instead, Leo just cocked his head. "You are scrawny."

"I'm perfectly healthy! And that is not, the, point!"

Eliot made to get up, but a large hand holding the bloodied sleeve of his left arm stopped him. He looked at that hand, how strained it looked, and then up to the downcast face it belonged to. Elliot could see small tremors in those broad shoulders, and how that dark hair hid more than it usually did. Without really thinking about it, Elliot reached over, and swept that main of hair out of Leo's face, which took some doing since his hand was bandaged up. Those purple eyes were downcast, and Elliot could see strain around the mer's eyes, making his normally blue skin a strange purple shade.

"Leo, it's okay. We're okay. Everything is going to be fine."

All he got in response was a sniffle, and nod, but it was enough.

-\|/-


	19. Chapter 19

Leo's first prerequisite for leaving the cave, was that Elliot wait till his hands were back in working order, and though Elliot wanted to protest -and on some level thought it was an underhanded way for Leo to prolong the inevitable- there wasn't much he could say. With his hands so injured, he probably wouldn't be able to climb up into his nest anyway, and even if he could, it would likely be very dangerous. Despite his declarations of 'freedom or death' he certainly did not want to die. So Elliot grudgingly agreed that he would wait, but only until they were working better.

When Leo finally left for the night to go retrieve food, Elliot tried carefully taking off the bandages around his hands and once he'd finally managed it, he didn't like what he saw. They were ugly purple, blue and black splotches, and he'd definitely broken several. Not to mention just how few nails he had left. He really had beaten them against the cave wall until he physically couldn't any more, and just looking at them made him feel dizzy. He really had gone insane.

It also became very obvious, that he was not going anywhere soon. The injuries to his hands were not like the one to his foot, which had only been chomped on a little. His hands could very well be ruined for good, and he only hoped that wasn't the case. He didn't exactly have a good track record on healing delicate bone structures, so it was hard to be sure either way.

On one, mangled, hand, he resented that Leo was keeping him here so that they would heal. Because both of them knew it was going to take a long time. But on the other, mangled, hand, Elliot couldn't be angry with anyone but himself. Leo had every right to be concerned, and the avian had done this to himself, even if he hadn't been in his right mind for it. Leo certainly wasn't at fault for his caution and concern, but Elliot sullenly wished he had someone other than himself to blame for it too.

The second request was that Elliot eat more. That seemed like a very weird thing for Leo to demand, and Elliot's first response was to protest. Loudly. He was already eating more than he did normally in the nest and he certainly didn't need the extra weight for climbing. But Leo would hear none of it, and simply stated that he would never get better, if he didn't have a healthy amount of food. The mer didn't seem to realize, that for his size, Elliot was already a very healthy eater when given the option. But the steadfast determination from the mer eventually convinced him to at least try to eat a little more than usual. Sometimes.

Strangely, the second request turned out to be quite easy to fulfill. Every time Leo brought food, Elliot found himself ravenously hungry. Despite his physical injuries, his appetite only seemed to grow. He did worry about gaining to much weight, because he still needed to stay fit and trim, but those concerns were always dashed by the time Leo had shown up with the catch of the day. The mer, in contrast, still never thought he ate enough, and perhaps comparatively, he didn't. Leo ate a lot, tons upon tons of fish and sea life every day, so on some level, Elliot understood that the mer couldn't rationalize the proportions that were normal for him. It was one of those cases, where their size difference actually mattered, and one of the only instance that Leo entirely dismissed it.

Meal times always brought a bit of an argument; Leo wanting him to eat more, and Elliot was always more than happy with the bounty he'd already devoured. It usually devolved from Leo's forceful, concerned reprimands, to the mer trying to shove fish at him while Elliot scurried across the cave in protest -thankfully, he was faster on his feet than the mer crawling on hand, but not by much. But then Leo would just start throwing the fish. Elliot was just thankful the mer had horrible aim, and that he was much better at dodging than he'd originally thought. Even if he hadn't been skilled at it before, he'd got much better.

The third request, remained elusive. Elliot remembered enough to know that there was a third request, because Leo had mentioned there being a third one, but they'd gotten off subject, and never wandered back to it. Elliot had only remembered it while he was laying awake one night, and told himself to bring it up the next day. It was normal for them to get off subject in their conversations. Leo, for all intensive purposes, enjoyed riling him up, and took every opportunity to do so. Often leading them down alternate paths in their conversations, and it was very normal for them never to wander back to the initial discussion. It wasn't bad, but it did keep them from concluding much. And of course if it was something Leo didn't want to discuss, Elliot could easily be led away from a discussion, without even realizing he'd been led away. Usually the avian would remember later though, and try to bring the subject up again at a later date. Often to his own detriment. If it was something Leo didn't want to discuss, it was something they likely wouldn't. He wondered if the third request was something like that, had Leo intentionally diverted from it, and Elliot simply hadn't noticed, or was it something far more innocent. He hoped for the later.

But when he casually brought it up again, Leo _did _divert. A dead giveaway -only many hours later, and long after Leo had left- that the mer was avoiding the topic. Perhaps the eternal optimist, Elliot tried once more, only to be side stepped again, so for the time being, Elliot let it go.

To his surprise, the dream did not return. Elliot figured that on some strange level, he had resolved the issue. Even if he was still in the cave, it was only until he was better, and it wasn't something he was actively running away from anymore. He didn't want a repeat of the event, so he mostly just accepted that the dream had passed, and focused on getting his hands back in working order, which constituted unwrapping, cleaning, -in salt water, which burned, but was good for him- and attempting to stretch, all of which he did several times a day.

Oddly, taking care of his hands became similar to what preening had been before. Since using them to actually preen was rather difficult, and painful, Elliot instead focused his energy on only his hands, keeping them unwrapped, trying to gently work with them on and off throughout the day, and soaking them in the cool ocean water while the tide was in. Even though the salt water burned, the cold water was very refreshing on his hands, and it seemed to stop the pulsing that they seemed to do on a regular basis.

Leo seemed to notice -perhaps Elliot was in a better mood when his hands were soaking- and he started leaving random pots and jars of ocean water around the cave, likely for when the tide was out. Elliot found it thoughtful, but in the long run, it didn't help much. By the time Elliot ended up needing them, the water in the pots were usually closer to room temperature, and less of the cold refreshing water he wanted. That didn't stop him from soaking his hands, just made it less pleasant.

It didn't take long for Leo to notice that his wings were no longer as glossy or well kept as they had been before, and it took even less time after that for him to just ambush Elliot, and try to preen them himself, which was an odd situation for both of them. They quickly learned that Leo did not have the delicate touch for it, and only after many reprimands, did the mer grudgingly admit that he hadn't helped at all. Elliot explained that he would get them back into proper shape when his hands were better, and that was all there was to be said on the matter. Though, Leo did take to poking them, as if to admonish him for not taking care of them, or for not letting the mer do it. The avian tried to ignore it, but his wings had always been rather sensitive, so that was harder to do than he would have liked. He usually ended up jumping at even a small touch, and that only encouraged Leo to plaster that obnoxious smile on his face, and do it again.

When the day would start coming to a close, and the tide came back in, Leo would come with it. Elliot would continue telling the story, and Leo would meticulously wrap up his hands again for the night. But, instead of just talking about the story, as they had before, Leo started, tentatively, asking more personal questions. He asked about Elliot's family, about the nest, his home life, how far away he lived, all manner of minor details about his life, that for some reason, the mer was now interested in. It was confusing, to say the least, and at first Elliot was quite embarrassed to be disclosing that sort of information. But, after enough prodding, Elliot found it easy to just open up and tell Leo about the questions he was asking.

At first, Elliot thought the mer had just been trying to be polite, but the more he talked about it, the more Leo seemed invested in it. Leo seemed genuinely interested in wanting to know more about aspects of Elliot's life, that he would likely never be part of, and once Elliot realized that, he was both appreciative, and upset by it.

Leo obviously wanted to understand him better, and though it was hard to read, he sometimes looked very sad when Elliot explained. Even stranger, the avian was starting to understand why. The more he talked about things pre Leo, the more he realized that he didn't really want to make that distinction. Certainly, his life was post Leo at that exact moment, but even so, simply by merit of what they were, there was no way that either of them would be able to fully integrate the other into their lifestyle. It just wasn't possible. Leo couldn't physically leave the ocean, and Elliot couldn't breathe underwater. There were large parts of their lives, that would have to remain separate, and that was inherently sad.

But at the same time, Elliot wondered if it was just him looking at it that way. Avian were highly social creatures. They lived with family, and when they mated, they mated for life. They migrated together, they found food together, they preened and chatted constantly. It was just something that avian did. They were group animals, even if they fought at times, that was a core component of their lives. Part of why the fall had been so hard on him, was that he had been excluded from that socializing. Without wings, he couldn't go with his siblings, even when they had been in the area, they'd been off finding food, and exploring. Vanessa stayed with him a lot, but she couldn't be there all the time either. All things considered, Elliot had been rather proud of himself for how well he handled being alone. There was no denying that he hated it, but he hadn't gone mad, or started plucking out his feathers, like his mother had done in grief.

But Leo was always alone. Never once, had Elliot witnessed him with anyone, or anything else. He hadn't really thought about it before, because it was normal for some animals to be alone. But, with each question Leo asked, Elliot started to think that maybe, that wasn't the case at all. Maybe Leo had gotten attached to him, because he wanted some sort of companionship that he felt he was missing, and if that was the case, it was upsetting that there were just large parts of both of their lives that they wouldn't be able to share.

The more Leo asked, and the more Elliot answered, the avian realized, he wanted to share more, and wanted to understand more.

-\|/-


	20. Chapter 20

Elliot looked down at his hands, soaking in ocean water, then shifted his gaze up to the opening at the top of the cave. Red and orange light cascaded across one of the walls, in a small, splotchy patch, and Elliot got lost looking at it, before answering the question posed to him.

"It's hard to describe. I only vaguely remember the first time I flew, and haven't been able to in almost a year. I've never really thought about how to explain it." The statement wasn't a lie, because Elliot had never considered explaining flying to anyone before. As an avian, it went without saying that all avian could -or should be able to- fly, and thus a description of it seemed entirely useless. It was a necessary function, and had only seemed poetic and beautiful after he'd lost the ability.

Leo, laying to the avian's side, rolled onto his back to look up at Elliot. The dark, damp hair fell to his sides, and Elliot could see those unnerving purple eyes looking up at him in irritation. "Is that it? How boring. Use that brain of yours for once."

Elliot glared. "Well how would you describe swimming?" He angled his gaze at Leo, before turning back down to his hands. He flexed them, happy with how little they hurt, and focused on how the water went up and down, entirely ignoring his own movements. It almost felt like a living thing, that really didn't care he was soaking his hands in it.

He looked back at Leo to avoid the thought, but the grin on Leo's face wasn't much of a comfort. "That's simple. Swimming is freedom." The mer raised his arms above him, likely stretching them out, before lacing his fingers together. "Swimming, itself, isn't so special, but the things you can see by swimming, the things you can find." Leo shifted his gaze back to Elliot. "That's freedom. There's no better way to describe it."

Elliot gave the mer a strange look, before looking down at his hands again. He'd always thought the ocean's vastness had made it daunting, not exciting. It was weird to hear that they felt the same way about it, but at the same time, didn't. "I guess flying is like that too. You can go anywhere. The only limit is yourself. Not even the horizon is a hindrance." Elliot caught the bland look Leo gave him, and found himself taking a defensive stance. "What? It's true!"

Leo huffed. "Don't just steal my analogy." The mer arched his back, extending his hand to reach up and poke at Elliot's cheek, with a cold wet finger. "I asked you to tell me about flying, so get to it!" Leo extended his head back, so that he was looking at Elliot upside-down, instead of just angling his purple eyes at the avian. Elliot found himself looking at the mer's neck, the gills that almost looked like slash marks on either side of it, before shaking his head.

"Well, there's the wind of course. Air current is very important. You have to be able to tell if jumping is a good idea or not from different heights, and wind is important for that." Elliot curled in his fingers, and then straightened them, once again noting how little pain there was, and how it wasn't all that hard to do. The light of the sunset reflected on the water was also distracting. "We're too big to just take off anywhere. We live high up, so that we can have a reasonable amount of fall, before the wings kick in and take us back up. It takes a lot of work to get our wings going, so height is very important."

Leo considered that for a moment, his eyes lost somewhere, before he looked back at Elliot, and motioned with his hand for the avian to continue. "Small birds can just take off from the ground, but that's not something we can do. I mean, we can, but it won't get us very far." Elliot realized he'd been using the words 'we', and 'us', and frowned at the thought. "Avian spend their whole lives in either the air, or in trees. In some areas, there are large enough predators in the trees to harm avian, but there's nothing like that here. Trees are safe. The ground is dangerous."

Leo offered Elliot a teasing little smile, that instinctively brought a scowl to the avian's face. "So I guess that makes you the bravest avian out there, since you walk around on the ground all the time."

Elliot wasn't pleased by the statement, but neither did he feel the rush of indignation that usually followed such teasing comments. And it was teasing, there was no doubt about that. But, between his fingers, which were working and not in much pain, the gentle sound of the waves reverberating around the cave, the dimming glow of a sunset he couldn't really see, and Leo's long figure laying next to him, his light flesh reflecting as much of the waning light as the water, the whole setting seemed surreal. He didn't want his temper to ruin it.

"Everyone has to eat." It was a simple answer, but he didn't need anything longer, or more in-depth. It was accurate.

The comment elicited a splash of disappointment on Leo's face, but it was gone before Elliot had really considered it. The mer rolled his head around, and angled it more towards Elliot. "So tell me about flying." Elliot was about to speak, when Leo raised his hand, and gently laid a long digit over the avian's mouth. "Not how avian's fly, and not the technical stuff. Tell me what flying means. If swimming is freedom, what is flying?"

Elliot gave the mer a strange look, before looking down at his hands, and the water reflecting light, and a distorted image of himself. It surprised him how easy it was to come up with an answer, when Leo phrased it that way. "Flying is potential. If swimming is freedom, then flying is potential." He felt the wings on his back twitch, and knew he was right. "Creatures with wings, can go anywhere, can push themselves as far as their bodies will take them. There is no limit, but flying is only that potential. Most things with wings, never use that potential to its greatest level. They get caught up in life, family, mating, tradition; all of those things you're born with, and don't even realize you have until they're missing."

He felt a small smile on his face, and brought his hands out of the ocean's cool waters, flexing them, and watching the water drip off of them, before flicking that water at the mer. "I could have gone anywhere with my wings, but I didn't. I stayed with family, I lived my day to day life without any real ambitions for what I wanted to do, and once they were gone, I resented that. I resented all the things I could have done, and never did. But, that never really mattered. I was so wrapped up in what I hadn't done, that I forgot what I did do, and I didn't even realize I missed that." Elliot could feel those purple eyes, squarely on him, but all he could do was look at his hands, and how scared and ugly they looked, but how they still worked. "I thought I wanted to be this grand person, who did what they wanted when they wanted, but what I really missed, was just being able to fly with my siblings, go out with them, gather things, just have others to do things with. Losing my wings, took both of those potentials away, and I foolishly missed the wrong one."

Elliot fell into silence, and found himself mesmerized by the small opening of sky above him. The light was swiftly fading away, and the deep blue of the evening was starting to spill across the sky. Elliot couldn't tell how long he'd been looking at it, when he felt a small tug on his hair, and looked down at Leo, still laying with his back on the cave floor, but twirling one of his long fingers through Elliot's hair. "I can't fly."

Elliot smiled at that. "That makes two of us." He then reached down, and flicked at Leo's forehead. It earned him a disgruntled squeak of surprise, and a frown.

Leo puffed in exaggeration. "Don't go ruining the mood!"

The avian couldn't help but roll his eyes. "Right, cause that's your job." Leo rolled over, and propped his head up with his arms, flicking his tail in what Elliot had learned was mild irritation, and spinning a strand of thick black hair around a long blue finger. The mer was about to say something, when Elliot abruptly cut off anything he was going to say. "Leo. Tell me about yourself."

The mer paused for a moment, obviously discarding what he had been wanting to say before, or perhaps filing it away for later conversation. "I eat fish. I swim all day. I don't like climbing up into the cave when the tide's out. I like finding things and bringing them here to keep. I apparently can't see this mysterious orange color you talk about. I've got a bird wife-"

"No- _What_!?" Elliot had been in the process of rolling his eyes, and preparing to tell Leo that he knew all of those things already, when the last statement hit him, and Elliot felt the heat drain out of his face. "Wha-What the hell is that suppose to mean!?"

The bright, cheery grin on Leo's face was enough for Elliot to know that Leo was yanking his chain, but there wasn't a whole lot he could do about it at that point either. "I'm not talking about you. I'm talking about my _other_ bird. I keep him in a different cave." The mer stopped there; his smile melted away into something more pensive, and from what Elliot could tell, Leo looked as if he was far away and disconnected. "He's very different from me. He's honest, and kind, in his own way; I'm a liar, and unkind by nature. He doesn't complain much, even though I know he wants to, and I know he's lonely, but he doesn't say anything; I've made him lonely, because I've come to realize I can't stand being alone."

Leo paused, as if waiting for some sort of response that wasn't going to come. Elliot simply looked at the mer, and Leo in return avoided his gaze. "He's not really my bird either, even though I want him to be. I want him to be only mine; I'm very selfish. I want to see him all the time, and listen to him sing every day, and tease him. I don't want him to leave. Not ever. Now that I've had him around so much, I'm afraid of being alone again."

The two of them petered out into silence, and what Elliot could see of the mer's face was unsettling, to say the least. "Sure sounds like you've really taken a shine to that bird." Elliot placed his hands back into the water, letting them soak a bit more. "But I didn't ask about birds, I asked about you. About a mer named Leo, who doesn't like to eat fish eyes or bones, who hides in the morning when I sing, but comes every day regardless. He's also pretty merciless with that tongue of his, and if he doesn't want to talk about something, he just keeps avoiding it, and hoping it'll go away. I don't want to hear about a bird, I want to hear about a fish."

Elliot caught just enough of Leo's face, to know that he was treading on thin ice, before Leo rolled over, so that the mer's back was facing towards the avian, instead of his front. "Fish are boring."

"I don't think my fish is boring at all. I think he's very interesting." Elliot had meant to make the statement sound considerate and thoughtful, but instead it came out more like he was bragging. He hated how he never got the sort of feelings he wanted across. Perhaps he really did have some sort of problem.

Elliot saw that familiar tail flap, that was a dead ringer for irritation. He wondered if Leo even realized he did it. "Don't call me _your_ fish."

That sullen tone was unmistakable, and in the time they'd spent together, Elliot hadn't figured out what was an effective way to combat it. So he stuck with his standard, aggressive tone. "You called me your bird wife! I think I'm perfectly warranted in calling you _my_ fish."

The tail twitched that time, which was still a sign of annoyance, but significantly less so. It was a good sign in general, and Elliot scooted over to the mer, and placed his hands on Leo's back. Oddly, the mer didn't mind touching, but Leo was far less open to being touched. It was something Elliot had been slowly working on, and this time around, a slight tensing was all he got, before Leo seemed to relax. "You're warm."

Elliot turned his hands over, because quite frankly the mer was cool enough to be soothing on his hand. "No, you're cold."

That tail twitched again. "You're too warm." Leo raised up his head just a bit, so that it wasn't burrowed into the cave, and Elliot could see one of those purple eyes peeking out at him past the hair. "For the first month I thought you'd just dry out. I'd come back, and you'd have just overheated and that would be the end of our little deal."

Elliot scoffed in response, before poking the mer's back, right in between his shoulder bones, eliciting a shiver from Leo. "You worry too much."

That lone purple eye looked at Elliot, before Leo turned his head back the other way, and the mer curled in on himself. Elliot frowned, and placed his hand on the Leo's shoulder. He didn't try to move the mer closer toward him, but instead placed the hand there to imply that it he wanted Leo to turn and look at him. "Are you okay?"

"No." The answer was abrupt, and cutting, and doubly so since Elliot had not expected it so abruptly, so obviously. Leo preferred to hide. When something was wrong, he wanted to run away from it, and not face it. He didn't like to be honest, so the blatant statement sent Elliot into confusion. Before he could think of anything to say, the mer's larger hand was wrapped around his smaller one, and Leo wasn't being gentle. "You can pick things up. You can stretch them out, and you don't even groan in pain anymore." Leo turned, so that Elliot could see his face, but the mer wasn't looking at him. "But I could break them. It would be easy, I could just tighten my grip, and your little bird bones would break all over again."

The statement hit Elliot like a ton of bricks, but he found himself surprisingly unphased by the assault. "Leo, look at me." But the mer refused. Leo kept his head firmly turned away, and his grip on Elliot's hand tightened. When Leo refused to listen to him, Elliot reached for Leo's face with his one free hand, and turned the mer's head towards him. "Leo, look at me. You're not going to do that." For once, his tone had been steady, but not overly aggressive. It had sounded like Elliot had wanted it to, strong, assertive, but not cutting or abrasive. It had sounded right, and like a spell had been broken, Leo's hand slipped away, and fell bonelessly to the cave floor. Transversely, Elliot's hold on the mer's face also softened, and he rested his hand on the mer's cheek, slowly brushing away his long mane of black hair. "Leo, listen to me. It's going to be okay. You're just afraid." Elliot's eyes were focused on Leo, on the jagged line of his mouth, and the purple splotches under his eyes, but he couldn't help noticing the ugly scars, and the yellowing bruises on his hand either. "Fear can make you do some crazy things, but it's okay. We're going to be fine."

"You can't promise that!" Leo wailed, his face looked tortured, and his eyes wide and desperate. "Nothing is going to be fine! You're going to leave and I- I'll never-"

"I'm going to come back. Every day, I'm going to come back, and we're going to sit out in the sun, and I'm going to read to you. You're going to ask questions, and make fun of my favorite characters, and I'm going to fly off the handle and get into arguments with you. You're going to splash me with that tail of yours and I'm going to be indignant about it. You're going to show me the newest thing you found, and I'm not going to know what it is, so you'll tell me what it's for and I'm going to be amazed, but I'm not going to show it. One day I'm going to convince you to sing with me, and you're going to be embarrassed about it, but I'm going to be to convincing for you to say no. Some days, it'll be nice enough out, that I'll spend a few days in the cave with you. I'll be angry about all the new junk you've found, and you'll be angry that I keep calling it junk, but I'll organize it into the proper piles, and you'll correct me every time I make even a little mistake. And on nights like that, when I'm staying, we're going to leave the cave, and go sit out on the beach. We're going to look at the stars, and you're going to show me all those constellations you love that I've never seen before. We're not going to just be fine, it's going to be so much better than that. But before that, we're going to just be fine. You're just going to have to trust me, just like I trusted that you weren't going to hurt me. Leo, we're going to be fine."

As he finished, there was a brief silence, utter, horrifying, silence, and then the whole weight of the mer was tossed at him, Leo's arms encasing him. Elliot had to struggle to stay upright, his arms instinctively settling on the mer's broad back, and easing Leo's trembling shoulders.

They stayed like that for a long time, Elliot running circles up and down Leo's back as the mer cried and hiccuped, and nuzzled into the crook of Elliot's neck. But through it, Elliot could feel Leo nodding. They would be fine, and after, they'd be better.

-\|/-

We have reached our conclusion. I hope you enjoyed this little project of mine, and thank you for sticking with me through it. I would be delighted to hear from any, and all of you reading this. For my own convenience -and hopefully your enjoyment- I'm adding my notes here at the end. Again, thank you for reading this story to its completion!

Avians are small creatures, but large by bird standards, ranging from 3'5" or 104 cm to 4'10" or 147 cm in height. Despite their diminutive height by human standards, avians have very large wingspans, easily longer than they are tall. When folded on their backs the joint of the wings tend to add at least 5 extra inches, or 12 cm to their overall height, though the above measurements don't include wing height. Elliot sits at a healthy 4'4" or 132 cm for his age. Avians have very slight bone structure; their bodies are built for flight, so their bones are small, thin, and hallow to relieve the weight of their overall bodies. Flight muscles are easily the strongest on an avian's body, so they have well defined back muscles. They are incredibly strong fliers, though their life in the trees doesn't often require that much work to fly. These muscles are very strong, but these muscles primarily develop early in life, if a hatchling doesn't get the proper nutrients within the first year of life, it's unlikely that those wing muscles will develop properly, and it is unlikely that they'll ever be able to fly effectively. Avians do not have strong leg muscles, in fact, their arms are almost stronger, simply because they're so well weighted on the top, so their actual legs are pretty spinally, and more equip for impacts and landings than a lot of actual weight bearing. In fact, it is easier for an avian to hang by his hands for an extended period of time, than to stand for a long time. Avian feet are more versatile than human feet, and actually are more similar to feet on a chimp or monkey; they are well capable of hanging onto branches with only their feet, and thus human shoes are something avian have never adopted. Avian's have grown used to wearing clothes, but they tend to be light, form fitting things. Unnecessary things that can get caught on branches and such are understandably unattractive, and it is common for avians of lower classes to just go without clothes. When avian are young, their diet consists of entirely meat, primarily fish and small critters that inhabit their forests, but as they grow older, they branch out to eat fruits and nuts as well, because parents are less likely to travel to lakes, rivers and seas, because those places are far more dangerous than their typical life up in the canopy. But the high protein that meat gives a young avian is crucial to its growth and development, where as an adult avian can live with only occasional meat consumption. Avian mothers do not breast feed their hatchlings. Avians have a high brain to body ratio, and live in large family groups. These family groups then form into regional groups. There is sometimes fighting in these groups, but more fighting happens between families for various honors. The Nightrays are an upper class family, and as stated at the beginning, that position is always in threat from other families in the area. This is rather common, so to stay on top, upper class families tend to have as many children as possible, to ensure survival, and to keep their place in the upper echelon of their society. Adoption is also not such a strange concept, for parents that don't feel they can provide for their children often hand them over to upper class avian families, who are always looking for more members to add to their ranks. Avian are very social creatures, and spend a lot of time preening, talking, and hunting together. One of the most interesting things about Avian's, is their amazing capacity for languages. In fact, the part of the brain that acquires languages never stops developing in an Avian brain. For humans, this part of the brain stops developing around age 6, but it is constantly in development for Avian. For this reason, Avian have hundreds of different languages among them. Often, they have family specific languages community specific languages, languages between friends, things of that nature. Such things come easily to them, so it's something they play around with a lot, but most of these various avian languages do not have written equivalents. Since learning languages is so easy for them, Avians also learn human languages easily, and since human languages, and since human languages have written meanings to them, avian prefer to write their books in the local human languages. For their physical resemblance to 'angels' avian are generally revered by humans, and a good omen. This means they are generally safe around humans, but not entirely. Their wings are stunning, and though it is rather rare, their wings and feathers do sell for large sums of money on the black market. Though this doesn't happen often, with avians, human have a bad reputation, so they prefer to stay away.

Mer are large creatures, ranging from 5'9" or 175 cm to 8' or 243 cm in length. Mer are very long, heavy creatures, with exceptionally powerful tails. Leo is on the small side, at 6'1" or 185 cm. Whereas avian are more specialized on their back and upper body strength, mer are just generally muscular, with an emphasis on their lower body. Mer skin is very thick, and an excellent insulator on its own. Their skin tone is a light flesh tone blue, but it's not as obtrusive as you might think. Think of how a person would look if they were freezing to death, just a slight tint of blue to them, and that's how a mer's skintone looks. Mer also have a relatively low body temperature, meaning they are cool to the touch, and are right at home in cool, or cold waters. Their bone structure is large, and bulky. Leo's description of himself as being twice as large as Elliot is not a simple exaggeration, but more of the actual physical differences between the two species. Mer have both lungs, and gills, and do need to breathe on a semi-regular basis. Mer usually live in strict social groups, and are highly territorial. Vicious figting between social groups is common in mer society, and arguably, more mer are killed by one another in fights, than any other threat or predator. Mer society is very, very strict, and social groups are often based on blood lines. Rough males looking for females is not uncommon, and generally accepted within family groups, but after mating with a female, that said male is not accepted into the group either. He is chased off, and the female cares for the children on her own. This is the norm if the male is not already part of the social group. Females to prefer to breed within their group, but this does promote inbreeding, so rouge males do have their appeal with the ladies. Rouge females are more likely to be taken into a social group, but males are almost never accepted. It is a rouge male's goal to convince a female to follow him, and start a social group of his own, but this is difficult to do, and the male must be a very impressive specimen to make a female leave her own social group for him. In these social groups, mer work with amazing efficiency, and are deadly fighters and predators. They are carnevoirs, and indiscriminant ones at that. Their social groups tend to be very large, thus they don't have leeway to be picky eaters with so many mouths to feed. Food is always in high demand, and many mer have been killed over social groups fighting over hunting grounds or defending said hunting grounds. Mer have their own language, and do not typically learn human languages. They have the capacity, and do tend to learn certain words, but that is generally the extend of it. Mer and humans have an odd relationship. Mer are not afraid of taking down ships out in open sea, in fact, they tend to pick hunting grounds around popular shipping routes, and often wreck havoc on ships. Mer are usually thought of as being very beautiful by humans, but that doesn't save them from being killed in droves by them. Humans thin of mer largely as pests, and there are many hunters out there. Scales are sold for medicines, and mer flesh is actually a delicacy.


End file.
